#How to Sit by the Fire Secure in the Knowledge That You Have Gotten Away With it

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Kiss In Stitches

Summary; Javier Peña x Fe!Reader/OC (Agent Jackson) -> Turns out, Javi is scared of hospitals so you distract him in the only way you can think of at the time, but it comes back to haunt you.

Disclaimer: Doesn't really follow Narcos, techincally. Fluff, angst, not proof read. Mentions of death in hospitals etc.

You had met Agent Peña during a field opp. It had been you - working for Interpol - and Murphy until Peña finally arrived back to the DEA and you all made your way into the apartment block. 

With the drug trade growing, Interpol got more and more concerned. That was when they sent you. You were one of the best agents to graduate from your academy year. No-one had marksman ship like you. They also didn’t know as many languages as you, either. 

Both of your parents were diplomats. Your mother had the higher authority so you spent more time at home with your dad - who had taught you to speak Italian, Spanish, Russian and French. 

It had been a rocky start; Peña not being told you existed was the main thing. 

“Who’s she?”

“She has a name.” You voiced before Murphy could introduce you both. 

“Javi, meet Agent Jackson. Interpol.”

“Interpol?” Peña questioned before looking to you. “I wasn’t aware-”

“Clearly. Shall we?”

By the time you both got back to the Embassy, you and Peña had gotten onto better terms. Mostly because he’d saved your life. As one sacario shot at you and you shot back, one appeared behind you. If Peña hadn’t gotten there first, you’d probably (definitely) be dead. 

It had been a quick turn around and before you knew it, you found yourself permenatly partnered with Peña and Murphy. You became a good trio. It was also nice to learn that Steve had a wife. Connie. 

You both got on like a house on fire. And, with your sister back in Europe helping at the hospitals, you had 24hr access to medical knowledge - especially when it came to children. 

Your sister had trained, originally, as a general surgeon before she decided to retrain almost 10 years ago to be a midwife and help mothers and their children. Most of your medical knowledge came from your sister because, during the time of her exams, she didn’t have anyone else to help her revise and study. So, you became a sound board. 

It just helped that you listened. 

This was how you knew, during a raid, that Peña needed stitches. Several to be exact. 

“What?” 

He seemed a little panicked as you helped him stand and both looked down to the scar in his leg. 

“Murphy!” You yelled, and two seconds later, the blond came round the corner. 

“Yeah? Oh.”

“Medic’s are still 20 minutes out. I can get him to the hospital in 10. Mind holding down the fort, here?”

Murphy nodded. “Sure.”

“I don’t need a hospital.”

You scoffed and titled your head for a second as if to say Come on, Peña. “We both know that isn’t true.”

Grabbing him by the upper arm, you secured your gun away before dragging Peña out of the building, down the stairs and towards your car. 

“Honestly, I’m fine. I can wait for the medics-”

“Shut up.”

By the time you arrived to the hospital and basically had to drag Peña all the way inside to the point where he wouldn’t even sit down on the bed once they found him a room, so you had to place both your hands on his shoulders, walk him backwards til his legs hit the bed and sit him down. 

“They’ll fix you up in no time.”

“I didn’t-”

“If you say you didn’t need to come, I will personally shoot you myself.” You warned. 

It was over the next 10 minutes that you saw Peña’s emotions. 

You had sat down on one of the chairs and for at least 8 of those minutes, Peña had been picking his finger nails, bouncing his leg, flattening his ‘tash over and over, running a hand at the back of his neck and through his hair. 

“Penn-ya?” You sounded out, getting his attention.

This was a man who was on the hunt for Escobar. A man who you had been shoot down plenty of sacarios, risk his life every single day doing a job that he loves and yet…

He’s scared of, what? A hospital?

“Are you-”

But you didn’t get to ask, “Are you nervous?” because a moment later, the door opened up and in walked the doctor ready to complete his stitches. 

You watched as Peña tried to remain calm throughout it all. Every now and again, he’d swear under his breath. Even though they’d given him some pain-killers, he wanted back on the job. 

More so, he wanted out of the hospital. 

But as it was getting down to the final few sitiches, the pain seemed to be getting worse. 

And so was Peña. 

His nerves were sky rocketing because he didn’t want to look at his wound being sown up right before his eyes, but he also didn’t want to see around the hospital. 

So standing by his side, you got him to focus on you rather than the pain and the white-washed, bleach smelling walls. 

And that was when you did what even you least expected. 

You kissed him. 

It was…a surprise to say the least. The doctor paid no attention, finishing up Peña’s stitches whilst his body was completely still. The kiss, although lasted, still felt (oddly) too short. 

hankfully, by the time you pulled away, the doctor had finished and was writing Peña a perscription for some pain killers. 

“These should disolve, but if there are any signs of infection, come straight back.”

Peña, after a moment (having to tear his eyes from yours), nodded and stood up. 

“It will be sore for a few days, so I say rest. I understand your job isn’t exactly the most ideal, but try where you can.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

Peña signed himself out and it was awkward silence all the way to the car. But he broke it. 

“Thanks, by the way. For the…kiss. I was nervous, that was why you did it, right?” God, he’d never been this awkward around a woman. It was like he was going bright red from just the word kiss. What was he? A teenager? 

“It was the only way I could think about taking your mind off it.” You answered as you walked around to the driver’s seat. “Why…why do you not like hospitals? You attend med school and, what? Faint in the reception?”

In all honesty, you did want to know. But now it was also to deflect from the kiss.

Peña gave a small laugh as he lifted himself into the car and shut the door. “I don’t know…I’ve just never…They’re never a good place. They help people, but anyone I’ve met who’s gone in…9 times out of 10, they didn’t come back out.”

“So? What? You’ve never been in one since?”

Peña smirked. “Welll, if i got kissed every time I went, I’d be sure to turn up more often.”

Your smile back turned into a laugh that both of you shared. So, good, you both thought it was something to laugh about.

But…one question remained. 

Why didn’t it feel like that? And why did you (both) want to to happen again?

Okay, maybe two questions. 

The weeks that followed, everything seemed to go back to normal. Or, at least, what you both thought was normal. 

But, no. 

Murphy knew different. Everyone did. 

When asked by Connie, Steve couldn’t exactly pin-point it. It was just…something. Like, the way you’d look at Peña when he wasn’t looking, or the way he’d look at you when you weren’t. Or it was in the way, when left alone in a room together, Murphy could walk back in and he could cut through the tention. 

But it wasn’t hatred. 

Neither of you yelled at the other. Neither of you looked like you were ready to shoot the other given the chance. 

It was just, plain awkwardness. 

“Maybe the like each other?” Connie suggested. “I mean, if I didn’t know them, part of me would think maybe.”

“But…it’s Peña and Jackson. They work well together, but…romantically. I- I just can’t see it, Connie.”

“Well, have you thought about asking one of them. Maybe they might tell you. Ask Peña. If anyone is going to cough it up, it’ll be him.”

Connie was right. 

Peña was a good cop and, every now and then, he could get away with a lie. But you were something else entirally. 

In all honesty, no-one really knew much about you other than the information you had given up - even then it wasn’t out right. They’d have to pay close attention. 

Or read what they could of your file. 

They knew nothing of your childhood other than you moved around a lot, you had one sister (but you could have more siblings for all they knew), you trained in the academy when you were 20 having early admission since you graduated University early. But that was about it. 

They knew nothing other than what could be infered from a file. 

And they’d asked a couple of questions over the last few months - like your coffee order. But you wouldn’t even tell them that. You’d just stand and go and get the coffee’s yourself and since it was in a to-go cup - like the rest of their’s - they didn’t know what you drank. Creame? Sugar?...salt? Who knows. 

You also would disappear at least twice a week at lunch. At one point, they had decided to follow you but they’d lost you after twenty seconds. You were quick and light on your feet. 

This was why you were the best in your class. 

They had offered you the opportunity to work for the Secret Service at one point but you had turned the job down. Plus, with Interpol, you got to travel. 

Even if they weren’t the happiest of ‘holiday’s’. 

But all of this changed when Murphy out right asked Peña one day, what was going on between him and yourself. 

Of course, he denied everything. Nothing was wrong. Everything was normal. 

So, Steve brought in Connie. 

Within ten minutes, Connie had it out of Peña about what happened. 

“So, she kissed you…then what?”

“We left the hospital and…that was it.”

“And you haven’t talk about it.” Connie could already tell. 

“I guess. We joked about it but then we went back to work.”

“And how has it been since?”

Connie leaned back in his husband’s desk chair. 

“Normal.”

“You keep saying that Javi, but you keep watching the door waiting for her to come around the corner. Have you thought about telling her how you feel?”

Javi laughed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, have you told her that you like her.”

“I don’t like her.” Javi denied. 

It was now Connie’s turn to laugh. “Javi, please. I know a love-sick man when I see him.”

“I like her just fine, it’s just…”

“What?Javi, you can say you’re scared. Look,” Connie stood up and flattened the collar of his shirt. “Just talk to her. You might find she feels the same way. Why else would she have kissed you? She could have slapped you instead, but she didn’t. Just think about it.”

After that, he did. 

And it wouldn’t leave his head. 

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to do it again. Because he did. So much. But you were- are a co-worker. There had to be rules around a cop dating a cop. Especially in the DEA. 

Nevertheless, it still played on his mind. Day in, day out. If he even looked in your general direction, he was always fearful if you could hear what he was thinking. 

Yet, it wasn’t until two weeks later, in the file room, did he try and talk about it. 

You had gone in there and shut the door behind you. No-one really came in the room hours after lunch so you had the small cupboard all to yourself, until Javi entered. 

“Hey,” he looked flustered. 

Nervous. 

“Can we talk?”

“About what?” you asked, looking back to the file. But that was short lived as he walked over and placed a hand to push to file down from your face. He needed you to look at him. 

“We need to talk about it. The kiss. Why did you kiss me?”

“Jav- Peña. Look, I’m sorry it happened okay-”

“I’m not.”

“But you were shaking like a leaf and- what?”

“I’m not.” Peña repeated. “I’m not sorry it happened. I-I don’t know what else to say. I’m just…I’m not sorry it happened and I’d by lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it and-”

“Javi, please. We…we can’t do this.” It felt like the walls were closing in on you. You could smell his colounge and it was intoxicating. 

“Please, hermosa.” The nickname rolled off his tough effortlessly. Like the name had always belonged to you. “Why did you…do you want it to happen again?”

His voice is soft and you can hear youself screaming, yes! but…something stops you. 

Nerves. 

“I…I can’t.”

With that, you left. All you wanted to do was run out of the building but the moment you left, Murphy slammed down his phone. 

“Where’s Peña?” 

Then he appeared by your side. “Grab your vests.”

A building of sacarios. Three of which were Escobar’s right-hand men. His most trusted. 

Get one…get them all. 

The sky above was growing darker by the hour and, although the temperature had dropped, it was still warm outside. 

And Peña had been watching your every move. 

He knew you…to an extent. He knew you well enough to know that you would say “no,” if you didn’t want it to happen. He knew, or maybe he hoped, there was still a part of you, no matter how small, wanted exactly what he wanted. 

For it to happen again. 

“Jackson!”

He approached the back of your car as you strapped on your vest. You tried to run, but you didn’t get very far. 

“Please, can we just talk-”

“No, Javi. I…I can’t do this right now.”

Peña stopped in his tracks, watching you walk down the hill. In truth, you were maybe 6ft in front of him. 

“Why did you kiss me?”

You slowed to a stop. 

“You could have slapped me, punched me, shot me in the leg for all I cared. But you kissed me. Why?”

He slowly walked closer to you and before you knew it, you had turned to face him. 

“Why, hermosa? Why?”

“I don’t know, okay! I don’t know. It was the only thing I could think of at the time.”

“And about what I asked you before?”

“I can’t…Javi. I…”

“Who says?”

It took you a moment. “I do. I…I can’t do this with you, Javi.”

“Why?”

He probably sounded desperate, and he was. He needed to know why before he walked away. 

“I just…”

When you didn’t say anything else, Javi held your head in his hand, cupping your cheeks before pulling you closer. The grip was lose enough for you to push him away if you wanted to but when you began to kiss back and pulled yourself closer, his grip became more secure. 

When he went to break the kiss, a small noise escaped your lips to which he chuckled and kissed you again. 

It was…intoxicating. Addictive. 

“Tell me you feel the same.”

“And that didn’t prove it?” You breathed. 

Javi chuckled, holding your head against his. His hand lay at the back of your neck, holding you in place. “I need words, hermosa.”

You smiled. “I feel the same.”

#Javier Pena x reader #Narcos #pedro pascal #javi pena #pena x you #javier pena x you #javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena oneshot #fluff #angst #kissing #hospitals #steve murphy #javier pena x oc #javier pena x fe!oc #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x female oc #love #tell me you feel the same #spanish #rejection but happy ending #feelings! #pedro pascal characters #javier pena imagine #reader as oc #oc is reader

[spacecadet-ticklesinspace]

Hello! I don’t know whether your open to writing about irondad content so if not just ignore this but I had a small prompt.

I can imagine Peter and Tony working on a new suit for ages and after finishing it, Peter decides to try it on. Tony goes around prodding the suit and making sure it’s okay, not realising Peter squirming. Once he does notice, he just has that signature grin and decides to exploit his new knowledge.

I don’t know if this is something you would be comfortable writing, just ignore this if not!

Upgrades

Summary: See prompt above :)

(Oh my goodness! I love Irondad! 😭 All of the fics I've read with them and all the clips of their interactions together is really sweet ❤️ Don't know how well my Tony Stark will be, but I'll give it my best ❤️ Enjoy Anon! :))

Tony switched a couple wires before securing them in place. "Alright, that should do it."

Peter looked up from his web shooters. "Is it ready?"

"Almost." Tony sealed off the final section. "Ready to test it Underoos?"

"Yes!" The young teen hurried over to his mentor.

"Alright, go put her on and let's check it out."

Peter quickly slipped into the new suit. It fit like a glove without being super heavy. The last few models had been restricting and hard to maneuver in, but this one was perfect!

He came back out to show Tony. "Mr. Stark?"

The older man turned. "It's Tony kid. Atleast the suit looks good. How does it feel?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "It fits like a glove, thank you."

"Might have made the technology, but I wasn't the only one to work on it. Now come on, let's test everything out." Tony prepped his pad. "First up, communication."

Peter pulled on his mask and immediately connected with Tony's ear piece. "Check one, two."

"Loud and clear underoos." The older man typed something into the pad. "Now the fun part."

"Defense shield?"

"Fire it up kid. Let's see if this works."

Peter cheered as he readied his suit. The idea of the defense shield had come from watching Star Wars. When Peter and Tony had had a movie marathon, the young teen noted the use of diverting power to a concentrated area that was under attack for extra protection. He had asked Tony about applying the same idea to his suit when in battle.

At first, his mentor had shied away from the idea. The ship was bigger than the teen which meant the margin for noting a problem and adjusting for it was smaller. Also, that power transfer might fry several circuts within the suit. However, the idea the kid could defend an injured area easily with just a few tweaks of his suit's power did give him some comfort.

He agreed to the idea as long as he had a connection to the suit so that he could also help monitor power supply and divert the power if Peter was unable to. The younger teen had protested the suggestion because he thought Tony would use it as a nanny cam to keep track of him, but when he had explained why it would be important to have those things in place, he had reluctantly agreed to the compromise.

After much time together and many many tweaks, they both had gotten more and more excited. Now came the moment of truth.

"Alright kid, now pull a small amount of power to your chest," Tony directed.

Peter nodded. "Karen, direct 20% more of all the suit's power to the upper body."

"Directing power now."

Peter turned to Tony when he heard a beeping coming from his screen.

"Transfer complete."

The older man grinned at his mentee. "It worked!"

Peter pumped a fist into the air. "Yes!"

"Now do the same thing down to your feet."

"Okay! Karen, direct 30% of all the suit's power to the boots."

"Directing power now."

Tony's screen beeped again.

"Transfer complete."

The transaction went back and forth with Peter directing more and more power to different areas of the suit. Once they were done, Tony had the kid sit on the table so he could double check the systems and wiring.

"Alright, the adjustments I made should hold up to the increase in power."

Peter took off his mask. "Wouldn't it be easier to check it without me in it Mr. Stark?"

"For the millionth time kid, it's Tony. But with you in it we can quickly test any adjustments I make."

The young teen shrugged as he settled on the table and Tony began to examine the suit.

Peter absentmindedly hummed as he tried to stay still so Tony could focus.

However, it was hard to do so when a pen proded him in the side.

Peter flinched to the side. "Eep!"

Tony started. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, no, no! It's just tender!"

Tony's eyes widened as he immediately squeezed the same area. "Did those circuts burn you?"

Peter wouldn't respond.

"Peter I . . ."

Whatever question he was going to ask died the moment he caught sight the teen's face. The bright grin immediately gave away what was going on.

A grin overtook Tony's own face. "No way."

Peter's own eyes widened. He recognized that look. "Mr. Stark---."

Tony wrapped his arms around the teen. "I told you kid, it's Tony."

The next sound to fill the room was a squeal as Tony dug his fingers into Peter's sides. "Noho wahait!"

"No way. This is adorable!" Tony spidered his fingers across Peter's stomach. "How did I not find out about this sooner?"

The young teen's blush grew darker. "Ihits nohot adorahable!"

Tony pinched his mentee's cheek. "Hard to argue with a face like that kid."

The young teen scowled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "We've gohot soho many thihings toho do Mr. Stark! No gohoofing ohoff!"

"When did you get so boring kid?" Tony scurried his fingers into Peter's neck. "You should let loose more often."

Peter squeaked and turtled into his shoulders. "Nohoho!"

"I don't know where you get this stubbornness from, but it's probably from me."

"Mihister Stahark!"

Tony quickly squeezed Peter's side. "Try again."

"Ah! Tonyhy!"

"There we go." Tony pulled the young teen into a hug as he dissolved into a puddle of giggles. "So you can learn."

Peter playfully groaned. "Noohoho."

Tony ruffled the kid's hair. "Come on blushy, let's finish up the suit."

As the older man turned to grab his pad again, he felt a small hand curiously squeeze his side.

The older man squeaked and whirled back to see Peter trying to appear as innocent as possible.

Tony smirked at the young teen. "If you wanted more, all you had to do wahas ask."

Peter blushed as his nervous giggles picked up.

The older man set the pad back down. "The adjustments can wait a little longer."

Peter squealed and fell back on to the table as Tony immediately jumped on him.

Needless to say, they didn't finish testing the suit that day.

#lee peter 1 #ler tony stark #ticklefic

[thatsbelievable]

#How to Sit by the Fire Secure in the Knowledge That You Have Gotten Away With it #tips #tricks #life hacks #helpful hints #advice #cats #cat

[that-yandere-life]

Hello! I was wondering if requests are open, could you do something with either Yandere Tony or Bucky, where reader was abused and kidnapped by another yandere that was more violent but they killed them right in front of her, taking her for himself. She is very obedient but flinches every time they touch her, fearing they are mad and are going hit her.

[Warnings: Yandere Themes (Obviously), Murder, Kidnapping, Abuse]

Bucky-

Bucky had been in love with you for as long as he could remember in recent history, so when you went missing he noticed immediately.

Kicking himself for not seeing the signs that someone else had been watching and following you.

Too wrapped up in his own little daydream about what it would be like if the two of you were actually together.

Thankfully he had a specific set of skills that would come in handy to track you down, along with whoever dared to lay a finger on your precious head.

Eventually he had traced it down to a specific area, having rough knowledge of where you were.

In a hotel room nearby he cleaned his guns, wanting them all in perfect working condition for when he caught the fucker that took his love away from him.

Tired of constantly losing everything that he cared about, this time he was ready to fight back.

Approaching the house he suspected your kidnapper had you held in, he listened closely to see if he could hear your voice coming from inside.

Unfortunately he could hear it all too well as you were screaming and begging them for mercy.

Enraged he kicked the front door in with ease, splinters of wood flying in every which direction.

Infuriated beyond belief when he saw you sitting on the floor clutching your face, bruises littering your entire body.

Without hesitation he fired the entire clip of his handgun into the man, leaving him deader than a doornail.

Putting it back in its holster he kneels down next to you, wanting to make sure that you were not in any serious harm.

Flinching when he lifted his hand to push your hair out of your face so he could look into your eyes causing him to quickly throw his hands up in a surrender motion.

Wanting you to know that he wouldn’t touch you again without your permission which was odd to you.

Quickly you demanded to know who he was and how he knew where you were? Was he a cop or something?

Shaking his head he groans slightly rubbing the back of his neck as he tries to figure out how to explain things to you.

How he was kind of like the previous guy but he would never lay a hand on you, he wouldn’t even want to yell at you too loudly.

Nodding you felt tears welling up in your eyes as you realized you weren’t free, not truly even if this new man seemed leagues better.

Wanting nothing more to wipe your tears away, he wasn’t about to touch you again especially so soon so he restrained himself.

The thing was you had gotten so used to not being your own person anymore that it didn’t matter much.

Bucky didn’t even have to break your spirit, someone else already did that for him, leaving him to pick up the pieces.

In a way he was thankful even if he never could forgive himself for allowing it to happen to you in the first place.

He wasn’t the one to make you hate him, in fact he was saving you from the wickedness you had been subjected to this whole time.

Holding his hand out for you to take, waiting until you grabbed it willingly before leading you out to the car.

Opening the passenger side door for you, allowing you to do it all yourself, wanting you to see that he was accepting of your boundaries.

Your own personal Knight with a shiny metal arm, coming in to sweep you off your feet at least that is how you will see him come due time.

Tony-

Tony had noticed that there was someone who kept showing up in the security footage that had been taken of you in a few different places.

Pondering on who it could be he looked into it, finding someone with no criminal record or shady past of any kind so he blew it off as a coincidence.

However when you went missing, and he couldn’t find the man in the usual places at the usual times he started to panic.

Hacking into every database he can get his hand on to find you, gaining access to cameras in and outside of retail buildings even.

Searching for any kind of clue he could find to figure out where you had been taken to so he could rescue you.

Finally after months of nothing he decided to try using facial recognition software, comparing it to security footage around the world.

Two days later getting a ping that led him right to the ugly mug who had taken you right out from underneath him.

Something that was more than inexcusable in his eyes, as you belonged to him and only him.

Suiting up he wasn’t even thinking of going in with a game plan of any sort, he was Iron Man for god's sake no one stood a chance against him.

Landing just outside on the front lawn of the place he had tracked the kidnapper to, able to already hear you inside.

At first he thought you were laughing, which started to make him growl under his breath until he realized you were actually sobbing.

Thumping and crashing noises begin to ring out through the night, your screams haunting him to his very core.

Blasting the door down with his armor, the hole he left in his wake sizzling like a Sunday barbeque, hot embers still around the edges.

Both of you inside were staring at the intruder with wide eyes and fear, but you had no idea that you were safer than you had been in a long time.

Sure you knew who Iron Man was, you had seen him on the television several times before, after the city had been attacked.

However, how did he know where you were? How did he know that you needed someone to save you?

So many questions only more arising after he reared back sending another blast through the person you had taken you away from the only life you had ever known.

The man exploding into a thousand pieces, all landing in lumps on the ground at your feet where only moments ago he had been slamming his fists into you.

A shocked squeak leaving your mouth before covering it again like you had done something wrong, looking at him expectantly.

Removing the helmet of his suit he looked at you with a pained expression, seeing just how badly you had been damaged during his time searching for you.

Crouching down next to you he could tell you were afraid of him, which was to be expected when he just came barging through the door.

Not to mention the hell you had just been subjected to, one he could have spared you from if he had taken things more seriously.

That was something he would never forgive himself for, and he didn’t want to forgive himself for.

A sadist when it came to beating himself up, never once blaming you for any of this of course.

As you gained the courage to ask him why he had saved you, he hoped that you would understand.

Slowly and carefully he begins explaining to you how he felt for you, and how he had felt that way since he first came across you at your local coffee shop.

Reaching up to touch your cheek in a comforting manner, you reeled back anxiously, scooting across the floor away from him as quickly as you could.

While he was kind of like the man in the way that he was going to take you home with him, he promised… no swore that he would never raise a finger to you.

In fact he could give you everything you had ever wanted and more, he was Tony Stark after all.

From now on, he is your Tony Stark, and you are his lover.

New beginnings leading to very real feelings, soon this will all fade into a distant memory.

[When this came in, I immediately started to work on it because I couldn't get it out of my mind! I hope that you like it, and that it was what you were wanting. I kind of want to do a part two of it, just to show how you adjust to your new life. <3]

#yandere bucky barnes #yandere bucky barnes x reader #yandere winter soldier #yandere tony stark #yandere tony stark x reader #yandere marvel #dark marvel #dark bucky barnes #dark tony stark

[brywrites]

Gifted

Spencer Reid x Reader. Summary: All his life Spencer Reid has been told he’s gifted. And all his life he’s wondered what the point was of those gifts that felt like curses. Until her.

--------

Though he holds so many memories in his mind, Spencer Reid isn’t quite sure who the first person to call him “gifted” was. It was probably his mother, he thinks. Certainly not his father, who thought he was strange. Perhaps a teacher, or maybe even his Aunt Ethel. All he’s certain of is that he’s lost track of the number of times people have praised the so-called gifts he possesses. His eidetic memory, his autodidactism, his absurdly high IQ. His mind, they say, is a gift. But it’s felt more like a curse for most of his life.

Those same things that helped him skip grades and earn the praise of adults brought him years of bullying taunts and miserable adolescent trauma. They isolated him from his peers. His companions were library books and stories and mathematic proofs – nothing with a beating heart. They plagued his nightmares, for his mother had been brilliant too and what had that done for her? And those gifts came with a tremendous burden of pressure, they demanded use in a powerful way. Reid was always terrified he’d fail to live up to that impossible potential, proving himself unworthy of such great and terrible gifts.

By the time he’s thirty-six, he wonders why he was ever given such gifts in the first place. Clearly he’s squandered them, spent them on chasing monsters he thought might be human. They turned out to be hydras – for each one they catch, two more take its place. He’s let his mind waste away on drugs, on grief. In shacks and in prison and in grudges he just can’t let go of. He’s saved lives, he knows, but his team do that same thing without the gifts he’s been cursed with. What’s the point of him? Of any of the talents or tricks he possesses?

And it’s that question on his mind as he walks into a Virginia library to interview a witness to the latest in a string of serial arsons. Her name tag says Y/N. She’s clearly nervous, a little shaken, but she manages a smile when a child runs up to interrupt and ask her how to find The Magic Tree House books. And when she turns back to look at Reid, that smile still lingers – her eyes so bright it catches him off guard. She takes him back to the area of the library that was burned to talk about the crime scene, and she off-handedly asks if he has a favorite.

And when he says, “Oh I could never choose just one favorite. I love books too much for that,” that smile returns, unexpectedly bright.

“A man after my own heart,” she says. “Tell me a few then.” 

So he rattles off a handful, hoping at least one of them will keep that light in her eyes. They do. “Bradbury is one of my favorites, too. I just love Dandelion Wine. Sorry, I probably should focus on the fire. I try to distract myself when I feel stressed, and well, remembering what happened that night doesn’t exactly help with my anxiety.”

“It’s okay,” he tells her. “I tend to ramble when I’m nervous. Or excited. Really, I think I just talk a lot.” Another smile, one that crinkles the corners of her eyes. Over the course of the investigation, the BAU has to ask her to come to the station twice. By chance, Reid finds himself interviewing her both times, and both times he finds himself rambling a little more than he means to – because he finds himself inexplicably a little nervous and a little excited in her presence. It’s that smile, the one that lingers long in his mind after she leaves each time.

There’s something about her, about the light she seems to carry, that draws him in. That compels him to say yes when he shows up at the library to inform her they’ve caught the unsub and she asks, “Could I buy you a cup of coffee to show my appreciation? If that’s not too much, of course.”

“I think that would be perfect,” he says. And as they sit at the café across the street with lattes in oversized mugs, he’s never been so grateful for his vast knowledge of literature. Each title is a start into a new conversation with her, and they swap stories about stories – the ones they have lived and the ones they have loved. When she disappointedly announces her break is over, she adds, “But maybe we could do this again sometime?”

“Yes,” he says. “Please.”

“How should I get in touch with you if you’re not showing up at the library to interrogate me, Dr. Reid?” she teases.

He hastily withdraws his cell phone from his pocket and offers it to her. She begins to type in her number. “You, um, you can call me Spencer,” he tells her.

She grins at him and something in his chest shifts at the sight. “I’ll definitely call you soon, Spencer.” He’s never liked the sound of his own name more. And he thanks that eidetic memory of his for allowing him to replay it again and again in his mind until he can see her next.

.

They get coffee again the first chance he gets. And then again. When she asks how he has time to read so much and he tells her about how his mind works – about his memory and speed-reading and quantified intelligence, all the things that have been called gifts – she thinks for a moment before saying, “That must be lonely.”

The relief he feels at her understanding is immense. “It is sometimes,” he admits. “But it’s felt less so lately.” They go to a park together. Then out to dinner. By the time he realizes he’s falling, he’s forgotten what it feels like to be on solid ground. Fortunately, he isn’t the only one at the mercy of gravity. She feels it too. And when she laughs at his joke as he walks her home from dinner, he just can’t help himself. He leans in and cups her cheek to pull her to him, pressing his lips to her still-smiling lips. The taste of wine still on her tongue. And though he doesn’t drink anymore, the sensation of her is enough to make him feel utterly intoxicated.

Slowly, his life fills up with her. His sabbatical arrives with the perfect timing to allow him evenings and weekends with her. He picks her up after work. She meets him for breakfast. He takes her to the planetarium. She falls asleep on his couch. He tells her it won’t always be this way and she assures him that’s okay. But it gives him the chance to build the foundation their relationship needs. It’s in that time that he begins to catalogue her smiles in his memory. The dazzling ones she sends his way when she spots him at a coffee shop. The soft, shaky ones she wears after a long kiss. The coy ones that twist the corner of her mouth when she’s teasing him. The nervous one that slowly grows when she meets his team for the first time – not as a witness, but as his girlfriend. A title she declares like a badge of honor. He holds each smile in his mind, picture perfect thanks to that eidetic memory. When a case has been particularly tough or he’s away for longer than he’d like, he flips through them in his mind, trying to remember the cause of each one, trying to hold on to that light until he can hold her in his arms again.

.

He surprises her with flowers on her birthday. “You remembered?” she gasps, her eyes wide. “And these – these are my favorite. How did you know?”

“I could never forget,” he laughs, but she stares down at the bouquet and clutches them to her chest.

“I don’t make a big deal about my birthday, so people don’t usually remember,” she says quietly. “And nobody’s ever gotten me flowers before. Thank you, Spencer.” A pause, and then, “I love you.”

He grins from ear to ear. Forget the sound of his name, those three words are the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. “I love you, too.” It’s a first for both of them. And one week later comes another first – witnessing her panic attacks for the first time. She’s shaking too hard to tell him what she needs, so he tries to do what would help him. He sits down next to her on his living room rug and wraps her in his arms. He rests his head on her shoulder and murmurs the words to her favorite poem. She seems to breathe a little easier and so he recites another one she loves, and another until her breathing finally steadies and she unclenches her fists to wrap her arms around his neck, burying her face in his sweater.

Suddenly it doesn’t feel like such a curse to remember everything he reads when it means he can give her the words she loves when she needs them most.

The first time they sleep together is only the second time he’s been intimate with someone and he feels more awkward than he wishes he was. But he commits himself to studying, to remembering what she likes and what she doesn’t, and the next time he proves to be the quickest of learners when he succeeds at making her come within a matter of minutes. He discovers a new smile of hers, one of dreamy bliss and kiss-swollen lips. He loves it. He loves her, adores every single part of her she’s shared with him and every piece yet to be found. And to his continued surprise and delight, she loves him just as much.

He tries every day to be worthy of that love. He makes time for her. He goes to meet her friends and he shakes their hands even though he hates touching people, even though she insists, “You don’t have to. They won’t mind.” He does it because she’s the only person in the world whose touch he actually craves.

When she swoons over a dress Penelope has shown her on Instagram, he makes a note of it. She’s utterly enamored by it by her smile falls upon checking the price tag. It’s far out of her budget. So the next week when he’s out on a case in Atlantic City, he swings by one of the few casinos that doesn’t have his picture framed on the wall of their security office. He wins more than the cost of the dress in an hour and leaves before anyone can get suspicious. The dress arrives at his apartment the same day he gets home, and he invites her over to surprise her with it. When she opens the box, her eyes go wide.

“Spencer, this is… this can’t be. It’s… do you know how expensive this is?” Y/N asks.

Bashfully, he replies, “Now might be a good time to mention I’m banned from casinos in almost every state for my card counting abilities.” It’s well worth the little effort he expended to see the way her face lights up at the sight of it. And though he’s never been a gambling man, when he sees her wearing it for the first time he considers trying his luck a little more often.

At times he worries he’s doing too much, but how could it ever be when the way she loves him has been so much more than enough? For the first time in his life, he feels like maybe he’s enough. When she says, “I love you,” he believes it. When she says, “I’ll be back,” he trusts her. He’s given another person more of his heart than he ever has before, and for once he’s not afraid of it breaking. She doesn’t mind the strange hours he works or heaviness he sometimes carries with him. When he wakes up from a nightmare, she holds him close and keeps him grounded. He sends postcards from each city he visits and she makes his favorite food when he comes home and home is suddenly a place they share. She moves into his apartment and it feels like it was never complete without her there.

.

Not long after, there is a case in Boston. Their terrifyingly intelligent unsub taunts Reid as he leaves the interrogation room. “Judge me all you want, Dr. Reid. But I’ve used my mind to change the world. You’ve done nothing with yours.” The words haunt him on the flight home. He sits on the back of the plane lost in thought. What has he done? Sure he’s saved lives, but could he have done more? Could someone else have used those gifts he’s been burdened with in a way that was better? Why does he have any of these talents? Why has he acquired any of these skills?

His phone chimes. A text from her. Brought home a new book from the library I think you’ll love! Can’t wait to see you, dearest. And it hits him.

It’s her. All along it’s been her.

The answer echoes in his head as he races home to her. Everything in his life has led him to her, has let him be the person she needs. He can memorize all her favorite songs and poems to recite for her when her anxiety gets the best of her. He can remember every date that matters to her and everything she adores. He can read her favorite books overnight to talk about them with her in the morning. He can profile from her body language and her microexpressions when she’s having a bad day and needs him to be there for her, even when she’s too afraid to ask for what she needs. When she asks absurd questions out of the blue, he can give her actual answers with the useless encyclopedia of knowledge he’s obtained over the years. When she needs a distraction his rambling finally proves useful. It’s all for her.

She’s the reason his mind doesn’t feel like a curse anymore. How could he ever think of it with disdain when it’s the reason he can picture every smile she’s ever let him see? When he can catalogue every wonderful word from her lips, every inch of her skin, every action that drives her wild.

Reid can’t seem to open the door to their apartment fast enough. When he finally steps inside, she’s sitting on the couch. She turns away from the book in her lap to smile at him. “Welcome back,” she says. Then, tilting her head, “Is everything okay?”

An unshakeable grin spreads across his face and he knows he must look like a madman right now as he crosses the living to sit beside her. “Everything’s perfect. I just… I had this epiphany. All the things I hate about myself, you love. And all the things I can do let me love you better. It just feels like everything – everything has led me to you. Even the bad things, I mean, being in prison forced me to take sabbaticals and if I hadn’t we wouldn’t have had that time together early on and maybe we wouldn’t have worked and I don’t believe in fate,” he says, taking a breath. “But I can’t help but feel like for the first time, I’m right where I’m supposed to be. With you. Like that’s where I was meant to be all along. And I… I just thought you should know.”

His long-winded rambling is rewarded with one of his favorite smiles from her – one that makes her eyes soft and puts sunsets to shame. The kind she wears when she is incandescently happy. Her fingers lace through his and they are a perfect fit in his big hands. “There is nowhere else I’d rather be,” she says, leaning in to kiss him.

All his life, Spencer Reid has been told he is gifted. But this time, he thinks it might actually be true. He holds the greatest gift the universe has ever granted him in his arms and knows that no part of him is a curse if he is loved by her.

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #fanfiction #gifted #brywrites #spencer reid fanfiction #reid x reader

[saturnsstufff]

The Empress Pt.VI

I hope you all have a lovely day🖤🖤

Warnings: light hint to sexual innuendo, Swearing

   Its been about a couple of months now since we found Tommy. The palace was up in a baby craze due to the new little prince they inherited. Once we got past the first couple week's of tommy living with us, we saw his true nature. He was a nice and sweet kid, don't get me wrong. But oh, he was also a trouble maker.

   Tommy would often bounce between hanging around Wilbur, Techno, Phil and even you. When you would be working at the forge Tommy would sometimes just slip in unannounced and make himself comfortable on a spare stack of metal. You'd only really notice him when he would ask you what something was, or what it did.

   That was the new update as well. After returning Techno had requested that you practice making earrings. Saying that he wanted to see how dainty you could work. Of course you didn't mind, back at your village you would often make rings, pendants, and sometimes earrings for those who asked. So making him a earring was no fuss at all. 

   Techno did start to wonder around to the forge often. usually seeing what you were making or what you were in the process of. Sometimes he would even make off hand comments to make you laugh. Your favorite visit’s from him were always when he would bring tommy. The two would walk in, Tommy holding Techno’s finger as his hand was a little too big for the young boy to fully grasp.

   Since you were a familiar face around the palace Techno had stopped wearing his Skull. Instead replacing it with his all to familiar golden reading glasses. You still stood by the ideal that you preferred him with no skull. Since he was, to you, very handsome. You did find out later that the skull he wore was for outsiders. He didn't feel the need to show his face to those who wouldn't be present very long in the empire. Choosing instead to leave them with the impression that he was a monster of a man, rather than a young prince with a heart of gold. When you say he had a heart of gold, you meant it.

   Recently techno has really opened up around you, becoming more relaxed in your presence. Phil had mentioned that it would only be a matter of time before he did, and sure enough he was right. If you didn't have anything to do with the forge that day you would sometimes read within his office well he worked. He never made tones of disagreement, or ask that you leave, instead he would just watch you sit before offering a ‘Hello’. It had become something that you often looked forward too.

   You and Wil were still thick as thieves. Techno would rag on Wil about how you two could sit and talk for hours, before declaring that you were bored with each other. Only for you two to part then reconcile in the library a hour later. Techno couldn't understand it, but in the end just accepted it for what it was.

   You had just finished cleaning up the forge for the night when you herd some light pitter patter of feet. Tommy. You slowly turned to face him. He was in his night wear, obviously he had just gotten out of bed. he looked distraught however. “What’s up bud?” you asked, putting the tongs and the spare metal away. He slightly shifted in his spot, his little teddy bear behind him.

   “I had a nightmare” he quietly mumbled. your eyes softened. Ever since you three found him he would have a recurring nightmare about ‘loosing my new family’ as tommy put it. Usually when he had this dream he would seek Techno, or you out for his comfort. Since you two were mostly together when he would look.

   “Want me to read to you?” you asked, kneeling down to his level. His bright blue eyes dancing about. He gave a little nod. he put his arms out for you to carry him. you shyly smiled at him.

   “buddy I'm a bit dirty...” You said softly, unsure if he was ok with getting dirty right before bed. He only shook his head and said ‘I don't mind’ as a response. So you gently took him into your arms as you stood. He didn't hesitate to curl into your neck. you glanced back at the room that held the forge, you mentally shrugged figuring the rest could wait until tomorrow. With Tommy in your arms you wondered out, heading for his room. On the way there Techno crossed path’s with you.

   “Oh (y/n)” he said as he looked from you to tommy. he furrowed his brows, asking what was wrong without physically saying it. You mouthed out that it was a nightmare, Techno slowly nodded understanding. He rested is hand on tommy’s head giving a reassuring rub to it. “Not havin’ such a good night big man?” he asked gently. Tommy turned his head to look at Techno, slowly shaking his head. Techno pondered a moment as he watched tommy. slowly he gained a idea. “You wanna hear somthin’ cool?” he said with a small smile. tommy nodded in response, gripping to your shirt.

   “Can (y/n) come?” Tommy asked quietly, watching Techno's kind eyes. Techno patted Tommy’s head before he nodded.

   “Yeah I mean, I guess she can come. Only if you deem her cool enough that is” Techno mused, glancing to your eyes. you raised a brow in question, watching Techno bite back a playful smile. Tommy nodded again. “You think she’s cool enough?” Techno asked Tommy, having him confirm his nod. “Yeah I think she’s cool enough too” He said, ruffling your hair before he walked off. queuing you to fallow him. You smiled and fixed your hair before fallowing him. Instead of leading you towards Tommy’s room, he lead you two to the Library. “Go sit on the couch over there” Techno said, pointing to the sofa closest to the fire. You nodded and wondered over, curious of what Techno had planned. 

   when you sat, you adjusted tommy so he sat in your lap. he pulled his bear close to his chest, hugging it tightly well the two of you waited for Techno. Luckily he didn't take long. When he returned, he had a Violin in hand. He was casually tuning it well he walked. You tiled your head curiously at him. “I didn't know you played” you said to him. He sent a bemused smile to you. taking a relaxed stance.

   “Trust me Princess... There's a lot you don't know about me” He waisted no time on starting a soft tune. Well Tommy eased into you, slowly becoming entranced with the peaceful notes, you became more interested in how he swayed to the light swing of his arms. His hands ever so delate as he held the bow, dancing it along the strings. working the instrument to cry out a melody ever so sweet. His face was that of concentration, focused on finding the proper notes to lull his younger sibling to sleep. This was just another reason why you found Technoblade so interesting. He could talk politics and war strategies so easily, sounding like a primed veteran well past his years. But then he could retire to the library and look like a young boy falling in love with the craft he just found.

   Well Techno played away, his eyes fell to you. Tommy had fallen asleep in your arms, finding security within them. His teddy bear tightly locked within his own arms. When he glanced up to you he almost had the breath knocked from his lungs. You sat so beautifully. Your eyes were ever so soft well watching him. You looked at him like he was the most important thing you had ever seen. Your face held a little bit of dirt, and ash from the hard work you did for the day, but he didn't mind. He actually preferred it. Too many times had the Court tried to set him up with a prim, and proper woman. One that was elegant, clean, pure, dainty. But He didn't want that. He wanted strong, hands calloused, smudged makeup, sweat dripping, imperfect, but yet somehow at the same time, perfect. He wanted flaw. He wasn't perfect, he had scars, he wasn't the most handsome boy, he was often classified as too bulky, and too tall. He also couldn't be held back with someone who wanted him, to pamper and please. He wanted someone who would treat him as a equal, who praised his knowledge on war instead of shunning it. Someone who embraced the flaws of the world, and turned them into works of art. His eyes wondered back over you, you had moved your head down to check on tommy. Your fingers delicately tracing over Tommy's cheek. Brushing the curls from his face.

   You looked back up to techno as he came to a stop. “That was beautiful... Why didn't you tell me you played?” you asked softly. Being mindful of the toddler asleep in your arms. Techno slowly lowered the Violin to the couch.

   “I didn't think it was that important to bring up” He said, returning the soft tone. Well he sat the instrument down his eyes met yours. You couldn't help but feel drawn to his eyes, they looked like beautiful glass, the fire’s reflection dancing within, making his eyes dance lively. “If you would like to talk more we should take him to bed first” he said, his eyes flickering to Tommy. You nodded slowly.

   “Right, of course.”

   After Techno and you had put Tommy to bed it was well into the night. Most of the servants and palace guards had retired to their beds, making way for the changing of the guards. Techno and you weren't really feeling the effects of sleep yet. Rather the two of you wanted to stay within each others company longer. Techno had walked you you to the garden, having snatched two blankets from the library before wondering out into the cold. Techno, having no where to be ended up taking his hair out from his braid. replacing it with a lower pony tail, giving his hair a moment of freedom from it’s confinement.

   The garden was beautiful. They couldn't grow flowers of course, but there were elegant sculptures that replaced them. in the middle of the whole garden was a artesian well fountain. although long frozen when the two of you passed by you could hear the water running within the ice. It was peaceful to walk with Techno. It was rare when the two of you would make late night walks. Usually you would take them during the day, or after dinner. But nothing past 10 o’clock mostly. 

   “So what’s something else I should know about you?” You inquired to him. He smiled to himself before turning to you. 

   “Are you really going to start school yard type questions with me?” He teased. You smiled and lightly laughed. He was smiling at you, admiring how you looked when you laughed.

   “Yeah, yeah I guess I am. You going to answer them?” You couldn't help but tease back. He chuckled and hummed.

   “Mmn. Maybe” he said bemused.

   “What’s your favorite color?” You asked, now aiming for the most basic questions just to make him laugh in turn. He leaned onto the railing that over looked the kingdom, pondering a moment.

   “Red’s a nice color, Or Plum Purple” He said looking at you. Taking a moment to ask you a question in turn. “Besides the forge what do you like to do?” You sat and thought a moment. 

   “I like to read, Action and Romance are a lot of fun” you mused, earning a laugh from him.

   “Romance eh? Waiting for someone to sweep you off your feet? Lamee” he said jokingly. You laughed and took a swat at his chest. 

    “Oh hush up, I bet you’d like someone to sweep you off your feet Techno” You said, your eyes scanning the horizon. He sat and thought on your words a moment.

   “Eh not particularly. Only lame nerds think of that” He said, turning, heading back for the garden door’s. you scoffed and laughed a bit. 

   “Jerk” you said between laughs. You were going to fallow, but then you had a wicked idea. You scooped up some snow in your hand and bit your lip trying to muffle your laugh. once you had a decent snowball you threw it at him. Bullseye. You had nailed him in the back of the head. He went still, You were a giggling mess now.

   “Oh, your in for it now Princess” He said, smirking has he turned. Running after you, his blanket long discarded as he ran to grab you. You squealed out laughing, running from him, discarding your blanket too. You didn't get far before he hooked his arm around your torso, pulling you into his chest well you flapped about like a fish. “Your gonna’ be pullin’ snow out of your shirt for a week when I'm done with ya’!” he said Laughing. Picking snow up before putting it on your head. Some of it even went down your shirt. You flopped about, laughing the whole time until he dropped you into the snow bank. He laughed at you and how you were practically buried within the snow. This only fueled your fire. you threw two more snowball’s the first one missed, but the second one he grabbed out of mid air. You tried to free yourself from the snow bank before he came over to you, but it was no use. he climbed into the bank and shoved the snow down the back of your shirt. But this time you caught him off guard. You grabbed his arm and pulled. setting him off balance so he fell into the snow. Now it was your turn to laugh. tossing more snow onto him. It didn't take him long to recover of course, he simply rolled and grabbed your arms. Pinning them down to the snow. His body hovered over yours. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body. His face was that of pure joy, the long stoic look gone. he was at his happiest with you right now. He looked down at you, smiles adorning both of your faces. You two were happy. Happy with the moment, you just wanted it to last as long as it could. Well you two looked into each other’s eyes everything else lost meaning.

   Without you two realizing, Phil watched above from one of the windows. He was smiling fondly at the little snowball war you just had. whether Techno had realized it yet or not, Phil did. Techno cared for you. Phil saw how he looked at you. During dinners, Lunches, casual talks, or even when the two of you hung out together. Techno looked at you with pure love and adoration. Phil knew if anyone was capable of wining Techno’s love it was going to be you. You were a hard worker, You cared for Techno’s brothers, got along well with all the servants, were mindful and respective of Techno's space, you also had enough spunk to rise up and toss back the teasing he threw. Phil knew this was the beginning of a love story.

   After your snowball fight with techno the two of you did end up going back inside rather quickly. Well Techno may have not been cold, you were definitely cold after all that. You could feel the snow melting on your back, the drops of water running down your skin. But that didn't stop Techno from walking beside you. The two of you walked side by side, your arms around each other to share the warmth. The lingering giggles were etched onto your faces in wide smiles.

   “I didn't hurt you at all, right?” Techno asked, double checking incase he was too rough. You shook your head smiling. Drawing your side of the blanket- that was wrapped around you both- closer to preserve the upcoming heat.

   “Nah, I coulda’ have taken ya’ if you had stayed above me more” Techno laughed fondly. Amused with your spurt of spunk.

   “Oh really now? You think you could take me?” This was now your turn to giggle. purposefully running into his side, shoving him lightly.

   “Mmn.. I think I could have found a way” You said looking up towards your room. You had offered to walk techno to his room, but he declined. He said he would feel better if ‘The lady was at her room safely’. You didn't mind, you figured next time you would walk him to his room in turn to make it even, maybe fire back with ‘I must make sure the young prince is safe’.

   He chuckled bemused. “If you really have that much spunk maybe I should teach you sword play, or maybe something more military related. you tilted your head up to him curiously. 

   “You would teach me something?” You asked, semi surprised, but also heart warmed that he would take time aside for you.

   “Of course, Princess. I’ll teach you anything you want” He looked down to you as he spoke. He was smiling gently. His tone was fond as he addressed you. “Now don't think I’ll go easy on you though” 

   “Oh, I didn't think you would” You said, resting your hand on the door handle, opening it. “Would you wanna come in and warm up a bit?” You inquired, looking up to him. He went a faint pink before biting back a shit eating grin.

   “Princess... Young men shouldn't be within young ladies chambers during such late hours... Unless, your trying to bed me?” He leaned on your door way. Biting back the largest grin. “Are you trying to bed me, Princess? I knew you had gotten some spunk but I never thought-” You laughed as he teased, going a bit red. trying to wave it off.

   “No- No, you know what I mean-” He laughed and cut you off.

   “Oh no, I know exactly what you mean” You smiled leaning on your door, looking up at him.

   “Are you done?” You asked giggling. He hummed, his face towards yours as he shifted a little closer.

   “Maybe” He said amused. “Go get some sleep, and warm up. I'm going to teach you sword play tomorrow” Your eyes lit up. Taking in a small gasp of excitement.

   “Are you really?” You asked almost unsure that he was still teasing.

   “I mean, Only if that interests you...” He said, his eyes lingering yours. You nodded fast and hugged him without much thought. Techno couldn't help the blood that ran to his face. He lightly cleared his throat as he rested his arms on you. A bit hesitant at first, but he slowly relaxed into your hold. Now understanding why Tommy liked to hug you a lot.

   “Thank you...” You mumbled into his chest.

   You swore if techno knocked you off your feet one more time you were going to find a way to shove his pretty head in the snow.

   Techno was a monster- in the sense of strength. You thought when fighting him, it would be a mutual teaching before he actually started going ham on you. But no, he literary just started striking with no hesitation. Only when he had your swords in a lock did you voice your lag.

   "Tech, please can we ease up?" You pleadded. He only watched you briefly. His inner General having come out a while ago.

   "Your strong. You can take it" he said sharply. Earning a whine from you. You weren't strong. You didn't do this on a daily. You only made the swords. But he was pushing you. Pushing your strength, and your nerves for one.

   "Techno I'm not strong, I- I've never done this-" he grabbed your sword and threw it away from you. Putting his own away. He grabbed your arm and pulled it to him. Pushing your sleeves up.

   "Flex your arm." He commanded. You hesitated, looking up at him. "Don't look at me like that. I said flex your arm" you slowly did as he said. Drawing your fist, and flexing your arm. He grabbed your bicep and squeezed a bit. "Notice how hard it is?" You nodded slowly. A slight sting from where he squeezed. "That's pure muscle. You are stronger than you realize. If you convince yourself that you are weak or that you cannot do this, then that's what will become of you" he paused his eyes flashing to yours. "I understand that you are no warrior, but you have strength. As soon as you stop telling yourself that you are weak, you will make progress." He pulled your sleeve down, fixing it for you. "Rome wasn't built over night, Princess. It took time, planning, care, and had to show promise. When I look at you, I see great promise."

   When he released your arm you walked over to pick your sword up. Techno readying his stance again. However, before you could break into another spar Phil had wondered out.

   "Ay' Techno you have a letter on your desk. You may want to read it" Phil said with a bit of concern. Techno dropped his stance his brow furrowing. He gave a 'Heh?' In confusion. He glanced to you and to Phil.

   “Can it wait a bit? I'm in the middle of teaching” Phil shook his head slowly. Techno paused as he thought a bit. "If I go, could you teach (y/n) a bit more? She feel's I'm too strong for her." He mused. His military side slowly fading away for his more domestic side.

   "I suppose so." Phil said with a gentle smile. Techno gathered his things and ruffled your hair before leaving. Phil turned his attention towards you. "What has he showed you?" Phil inquired, walking over to you.

   "Nothing besides showing me the ground.. seriously my back hurts.." you whined. Phil chuckled lightly at you.

   "I should have known. Here I'll teach you some basic's" Before long Phil had you doing simple moves and stances. Things he felt would be easy for you to ace. After a while you got a bit curious.

   "Why does techno think I can pick this up so easy? He fights so hard" You questioned. Looking over to Phil. He hummed a moment well he pondered.

   "I uh, think that he just wants you to be able to defend yourself. He knows your strong, and besides. He thinks pretty highly of you, y'know'" you went a bit wide eyed. Techno thinks highly of you?

   You looked to Phil with a bit of shock on your face. "He does?" He nodded, Smiling gently. Phil gently took the sword from your hands and hung it on the wall with the others.

   Since you within the training hall, there was a plethora of weapons and armor of all kinds. The room was large, made for incasing many people. But the detail never faltered. The floor was of stone, pillars lining the outside to support a second floor. The ceiling was framed with gold, dark oak and a smooth white to open the room up more. It was a good place to spar and just ramble off thoughts.

   "Oh, of course. He's said it multiple times to me. That's why he was fine with you coming with us to the mansion. Don't think that he hasn't been paying attention to you on the daily." Phil said looking up to you.

   "He watches me?" You furrowed your brow slightly. Phil saw and continued.

   "Not in the creepy way. He just takes notes of things you do, say you like, ect. He knows your kind with tommy, that you are very organized with your work. Your very detail oriented. He's become quite smitten with you" Phil chuckled. Finding it all amusing.

   You were taken aback by this. You thought you two had a good friendship, but it looks like he's paid a lot of attention to you after all. It started to dawn on you. 'I don't really know much about him' you thought to yourself. Sure you knew his mom passed, his favorite color. But you never really dove into his personal life much beyond that. Maybe it was time you got to know him more. "If I wanted to know more about him... could I ask him?" You asked, looking up at Phil. He patted your head and started walking with you towards the hall.

   "Of course. Something tells me he wouldn't turn you away." Phil said, biting a smile back. He remembered you two last night playing within the snow. He knew Techno would never turn you away, he was in love with you, even if techno wasn't aware of it.

   After dinner you wondered towards Techno's office. You wanted to talk to him, get to know him better. You know he was powerful and kind, but you wanted to know more. What was his ambitions? His hopes, fears. You just wanted more.

   When you walked up to the doors you carefully knocked, hearing talking within. When you herd the 'come in' you pushed the doors open. Techno was sat in his chair per usual, he had his reading glasses on with papers on his desk. When you entered he complied them together neatly. Setting them aside for later. However there was also a rather tall woman. she was beautiful, dripping with total control. Her hand was rested on her sword. When she turned to face you. You saw Her face, It was hard but something told you their was more too her. Her skin looked like it was kissed by the sun himself. She looked like she wasn't from here, but the way she dressed herself in armor told you elsewise.

   "Hello (y/n)" techno said. The woman glanced to Techno and back to you. She offered a kind smile. "This is General Hawthorne, she's my leading General of the Empires army. I don't believe you two have met before" He said formally. Not having the tone he normally used with you.

   She offered her hand. "Its nice to finally meet you (y/n). His Imperial Majesty said we would have a new Blacksmith. But I never expected someone as young as you" Her smile was warm. When you took her hand to shake it you were shocked with the grip she had. Under her glove you could feel some rings digging into your hand. "Don't worry about addressing me as Hawthorne. Seraphina is fine, or Sarah" you nodded smiling to return hers. Wanting her to drop your hand, her grip a tad to much.

   "Its a pleasure to meet you, too" you said looking up to her. She turned back to Techno, taking a scroll from his desk.

   "I'll see you there then sire" Sarah said, smiling before she walked out. You watched her go, your eyes lingering on the door as you thought. Turning back to Techno.

Techno took his reading glasses off and set them aside on his desk. Leaning back in his chair. When he looked up at you his eyes softened, his tone also becoming casual. "What do you think about weddings?".

@goldensunshineshit @snobunns @olyink @lolitsellieletsgobro @jackalopedoodles @angelic-scent @coolleviauchihadreamerlove @artsimatsu @justabalroginthenet @seme1e @fangirl570 @sweeetteaa @awlawdtheycoming @idkwhatusernametohave @sugarandspicebutnonice @bambibunz @lynnarts @buzzybeebee @feathersthewinged @prefesro

#technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #techno x reader #techno x you #TE

[whaleofatjme1920]

Feeling Warmth Through Doused Fires (Masky X F!Reader)

Feeling Warmth Through Doused Fires

[Masky/Tim Wright X F!Reader]

[Warnings: murder, language, angst, mentions of death and actual death. Mostly the angst.]

[AN: Another brilliant request from Eris! This was also a Ko-Fi commission! ALSO ALSO this thing is 13K words! This is my longest fic yet! buckle in.]

When are there not stars in your eyes? It’s hard to dim them even when the sun comes up, which is such an odd thing to even admit due to the mud life has made you trudge through.

You are the product of a proxy father and a human mother. To be the Slender Man’s child is your birthright, and so far, you’ve been living up to that birthright with flying colors. As a young one, she had woven you stories of the culture and society your father was a part of and everything he had been up to.

Visions of murder, deals gone sour, and morally grey acts have been threaded into your soul. You grew up thinking that was normal, and by twelve, you had knowledge on things that no child should have ever opened their ears to.

“And then what happened?” You ask your mother, urging her to continue the story.

She giggles like a butterfly ready to take flight and holds your tiny six year old body closer to her. She smells of honey and vanilla. “That group had messed with the wrong people,” she continues, her voice falling deceptively low. “The tall man in the woods-”

“You mean the faerie?” You ask as your eyes sparkle. “The Slender Man?”

Your mother nods, her index finger reaching up to tap your nose. “Yes, exactly that,” she hums. “He sent another group of proxies to handle the mess.”

“Ooooooo they’re in troubleeeeee,” you giggle, still hooked around your mother.

She laughs. “He initiated what is called a ‘proxy hunt’. It’s something only the bad proxies are subject to,” she explains. “It’s important you don’t make mistakes like that, Reader. Do you understand?” She questions with a warm hum as she secures you in her arms, bringing your tired form to your bedroom.

“Got it,” you say in the most serious tone a six year old can muster. “No making the faerie mad.”

“That’s my girl.” Her lips pull up in a grin that rivals the Cheshire cat.

Your father is a proxy. He is tall, unstable, but loves you like the moon loves the tide and the sun loves the earth. To be a proxy is to be closed off and untouchable, but the sound of you running to greet him on the blue moon he visits you and your mother has always been enough to humanize him, if even for a moment. He loves you, his special little girl, with all the grains of sand there are on the earth.

He comes around sparsely, and as you grow older, rarely. It’s not that he doesn’t love you, it’s just that he’s busy and the Slender Man enjoys making his favorites suffer. Every time he sees you, he remarks how much bigger you’ve gotten. He’s more than upset that he can’t be there to watch you grow into a fine young lady.

“You’re late,” you say, eyes narrowed as you look up at the tall, bulky man who stands before you. You take your hand off the doorknob and stand tall as you cross your arms.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” the man apologizes, crouching down to your eye level. “I brought you a present.”

You eye your father carefully, arms relaxing for a moment before noticing the wrapped gift in his hands. “Is…”

“It’s something you’ll like,” he answers, holding the gift out to you. “I promise.”

You narrow your eyes again but take the wrapped present from his hands, shaking it slightly. You hear something rattling around. “Can I open it?” You ask as you attempt to hide your smile.

Your father chuckles. “I don’t think your mother would appreciate it, but yes. Go ahead, open it.”

You relent in the angry front and plop down on the floor, opening the present without any grace as a ‘proper lady’ as your mother would put it. You peel back the brightly colored wrapping paper and then tear into the box. “Oh my gods,” you whisper to yourself in surprise as the stars once again light up in your eyes. It’s an entire art set of fine materials. “Where did you get these?”

Your father shrugs. “That’s for me to know and you to never find out,” he says in a teasing tone.

You push at him before placing the box of expensive art supplies to the side. You can’t help but lunge into your father’s waiting arms.

“I heard you were getting seriously into art from your mother. Doing art for friends? I’m so proud of you!” He laughs and hugs you, his lips pressing to the crown of your head. “Happy twelvth, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your hair. “I love you so, so much.”

You can’t help but cry and hug your father tighter.

For a person who was supposed to be brutal, uncaring, uncouth and simply inhuman, your father had the whole dad thing down when he was around. He never raised his voice to you, was kind and thoughtful in his responses, and you adored how he treated your mother with nothing but love and understanding.

You know that if he wasn’t shackled to a life he had no choice of entering, he would have been one hell of a father.

Your mother, a mentally fragile woman who loves a damn near unattainable man, brings you the news one overcast morning. Her eyes are red and puffy and it looks like she hasn’t been able to stop crying for hours. Her posture is broken but her heart even more so. It’s probably irreparable.

You were sitting at your desk, doing your homework. Tomorrow was Monday, starting the final week of school. It was one of the final essays before you were out for summer break, and then you’d be gearing up for your first year of high school once autumn came.

Earbuds in, you didn’t even hear your mother slink into the doorway of your room. When you finally get the inkling that someone is watching you, you take out one of your earbuds and turn your head. “Mom?” You sound genuinely confused, especially after seeing her rough appearance. “What’s wrong?” You slowly push back in your chair, ready to stand and meet her in the doorway.

“Your-your,” her breath hitches as she leans helplessly in the doorway. “It’s your father,” she manages to rasp out as she begins to slink downwards, her knees buckling.

Your eyes go wide, tears welling in them and blurring your vision as you jump out of your seat and collapse on the floor with your mother. You wrap your arms around her, burying your face into her shoulder as she cradles you in her arms.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry,” she wails like a mantra, clutching onto you like she’s afraid to lose you too.

You don’t know how to feel in that direct moment. You loved your father, more a shadow than a real man, but his loss cuts deep and hard. He wanted to show you things “when you’re older” and tell you of the world you were born in. You wanted so badly to learn it all by his hand and his knowledge.

When your mother has finally come to a grounding point where she is no longer choking over her words, she leads you to her bedroom. She moves slowly, as if she’s trying not to remember anything about the man she loved and lost. Her steps are quiet, almost like she’s floating.

You follow her just as quietly. It’s as if you don’t want to disturb the silence that has settled over the two of you. It’s heavy and suffocating, but it’s a blanket shielding you from the reality that someone is gone and never coming back.

Your mother opens her bedroom door and shifts around in her drawers.

Unsure of where you should be and if you’re allowed into the sanctuary that is her room and her space, you wait in the doorway, much like she did when she brought you the bad news. You’re still wiping away tears with the bottoms of your hands and by extension, rubbing your skin raw. Your vision is still bleary, but when your mother finally resurfaces, you don’t even need to be told what it is she’s holding.

In her hands is a mask. It’s dark brown and has a simple face almost reminiscent of a dragon. It’s simple, but elegant. It’s simple, but horrifying. You feel drawn to it.

Your mother weakly smiles and sits down on her bed, patting the open spot for you to sit down.

You do so without question and take your spot next to her, almost on instinct leaning yourself onto her side. You smile softly as she wraps her arm around you, pulling you close.

“It was your father’s,” she says quietly, fingertips gently tracing the mask's face. She then gingerly shifts it onto your lap. “Now it is yours.”

You feel more tears cascade from your eyes as you gaze longingly down at the mask on your lap. “Are you sure?” You shakily question, wondering why she’d want to pass such a beautiful memento down to you so soon.

“It’s your birthright,” she replies, her lips pressing to the side of your head that gives you a love only a devoted mother could.

You didn’t understand what she meant at that moment.

You never saw your first year of high school.

When the summer came, you had bounced back like any child could. Children are plastic. They can bounce back from almost anything, just give them enough time, space, and care. You were no exception.

In truth, after losing your father, you hadn’t found any desire to go to college. Your heart was telling you that a life that was so cookie cutter and parallel to everyone else’s was never in the cards for you. Your blood sung for something different.

Proxies always return to him.

Your mother knew it too. She saw it in your longing gaze as she drove the two of you back home from grocery runs, how your eyes would follow the breeze in the backyard to the woods, how your hands naturally found their way to knives, and how your thoughts transcended what should be humanly possible.

But you’re not human. You never have been. Never will be.

Your mother knew that best. It was only natural that she found contact with the tall man of the woods halfway through the summer of losing your father.

“She’s different, my little girl,” she explained as she gazed up at the imposing, almost immaculate figure. “I don’t think I could ever give her what is expected or needed.” She hates to admit that she’s not good enough for you, but that is the curse of being a born, not turned proxy. Proxies always return to their master, regardless of age, creed, or background.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘What would you have me do?’ He’s only asking as a formality. He knows that you belong to him. Your father had been attempting to gear you up to join. The Slender Man is only finishing what one of his most beloved proxies started.

Your mother shifts uncomfortably, crossing her arms over her chest as a defensive maneuver. She absentmindedly tucks some strands of her hair behind her ear. “I think she needs to be with you,” she mumbles, still not wanting to admit she’s not good enough because she’s human. “I think she needs to be fully immersed in… Whatever it is my husband says you do.”

The Slender Man chuckles deeply. He knows your mother knows what his beloved proxy does, but he lets her feign her ignorance. ‘That’s rich coming from a woman who loves her child more than the land loves the sea,’ he taunts coldly. In truth, it is nothing against her as an individual, but it is everything against her as a human being.

Your mother scoffs and holds her ground. “Will you take her in or not?”

He raises his hand to convey a truce. ‘My apologies.’ He doesn’t mean it. ‘I will. She is my child, afterall-’

“She is NOT your child,” your mother snarls, fully aware she is in the presence of a very temperamental being who could smite her just for thinking wrong.

The Slender Man, in all his mercy, once again holds his hand up as a sign of truce. ‘I understand the loss is still heavy on your heart,’ he begins, voice heavy and almost exhausted to be dealing with human emotional flare ups. ‘I will take her as soon as you are ready to let her go.’

Your mother’s shoulders drop slightly as she comes to the realization that yes, that was a decision she was making. She feels tears well in her eyes, but refuses to blink them away. “Thank you.” She nods to the tall man, then turns on her heels and heads back home, where you lay asleep waiting for her.

The Slender Man watches her leave with curiosity in his gaze. He already knows where he’s going to be placing you. You are not the youngest to fall under his influence, but you are the first in a while. He tends to pluck young adults, not children. And if he did choose children, consider it target practice.

Nothing more.

When your mother tells you that you are leaving her side, you are once again thrown into a plethora of emotions, a maelstrom .A part of you can’t believe she’d just willingly give up on you like that, but another says this is the direction you’re meant to go.

“This isn’t a decision I make lightly, Reader!” She exclaims in budding frustration, her fingers raking through her hair like a tick. “Really, I have no say in the matter!”

“Yes you do!” You cry back. “You’re my mother! How could you just abandon me?” You fight back. You ball your hands in fists. You’re not backing down from her.

Your mother sighs deeply and shakes her head. “I am not prepared for this,” she mumbles. “I do not have the right knowledge to allow you to grow into the person you could be,” she finishes, plopping back onto the wall in the kitchen. She’s exhausted on every facet. Her heart hurts with just how much she loves you.

“What could you not be prepared for?” You seethe. “What on this hunk of rock are you not prepared for?”

Your mother honestly doesn’t know how to answer that. Your father had always been oddly tight lipped about certain aspects of the proxy lifestyle, perhaps out of safety reasons for the two of you. She doesn’t know what you’re going to be thrown into. “I know that it’s rough-”

“Just like that?” You retort, a fire in your eyes that reminds her much too much of her departed husband. “You don’t want me? Is that it?” You finally relent, a crack interrupting your once strong tone.

Your mother falters and comes to your side, holding you in her arms once more. “Of course not,” she murmurs. “Of course not.”

“Then why?” You prod softly with a small sting.

“You are a proxy by blood, that’s all,” she offers as advice, swaying you.

You feel your heart begin to slow from its racing pace. You don’t want to accept that as an answer, but you do just to bring her peace.

You leave your mother’s side near the end of July. Just twelve years old and on the precipice of something no ordinary human could ever even begin to understand.

Your final dinner with her was uncomfortable, but bittersweet at the same time. You and your mother had shared stories, laughs, tears, everything and anything. You know that after this, you probably won’t ever be able to see her again.

Your mother brings you to the woods herself. She holds your hand, a knot in her stomach over seeing you holding your father’s mask followed by a backpack strapped to your still small body as you are about to venture into the unknown. She never thought she’d be losing you so soon.

The Slender Man is never tardy. He pops into your view once you are a safe distance into the forest with splendor - it’s probably to impress you to some degree. He really hasn’t worked with a child in a very long time.

You feel your head go dizzy with static. Your breath hitches and your heart stops. It’s almost intoxicating that you are in the presence of the man who will now have control of your entire life. You look up at him and the stars return to your eyes. Still, as a child-like crutch, you grip onto your mother’s side and hide yourself with her form, terrified of the imposing man that stands tall in front of you.

“It’s okay,” your mother says softly, gently urging you to the man you will now consider your god. “He’s here to help you.”

The Slender Man hums deeply. His voice invades your head like a virus, infecting every thought and feeling until it overtakes you and makes itself home. Curiously, he bends down. He is lit up by the light of the full moon.

You peek out from your mother’s form and gradually find the stones to leave her side - still hesitantly. You take in a deep breath, reminding yourself to be brave, and approach the now bent down figure who sits at eye-level with you. “It’s… It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir,” you say quietly, a childlike innocence making the Slender Man mentally smile. You look at him with fear and curiosity in your eyes.

He chuckles deeply - the sound sends chills down your spine - before holding out a flower to you. It’s small, much like you, and pretty. The petals are free of any damage the bugs might have caused, and the color is absolutely spellbinding. It’s your father’s favorite color, red, though it’s not a rose. ‘For you, my dear.’

You allow a sheepish smile to spread onto your lips before you take the flower from his waiting hand, and sniff it. It’s so sweet and familiar. You recognize the scent as something your father carried on his person. The thought makes you tear up.

His large, clawed hand comes up to your face before his thumb gently wipes the tears away. ‘It’s time to go. Say goodbye, dear.’ He nods for you to bid a farewell to your mother, who is trying her hardest to not break in front of you.

You don’t hesitate in turning around and running into her open arms, face crashing into her chest as you take in her familiar scent for a final time.

“I love you,” she whispers, peppering your face and crown with kisses. “Never ever forget that.” She holds you tighter, and you hold back just as tight.

When it’s time to go, you leave her warmth to a cold that burns bright.

It wraps around your hand, and takes you to a diner.

“Where are we?” You ask as you take a gander at your surroundings. You see that you’re still largely obscured in darkness, but the artificial lights of a lit up IHOP grant you that soft, almost annoying light that disturbs the night.

He lets go of your hand. ‘Head inside and you will meet your group.’

You look up at the Slender Man curiosity. “My group?” You quizzically ask, still looking up at the tall man.

He nods and then puts his hand on your back, gently nudging you to cross the parking lot, almost as if he’s nonverbally telling you that they are waiting for you. “Like a family. A new family.”

You feel a little nervous, but nod your head and decide to be strong - or whatever you think your father might have done in a similar situation. “Thank you for your time,” you say, remembering your mother and father both stressing how important it was to show reverence to those in higher positions than you.

The Slender Man’s wolfish smile floods your mind’s eye, gently, and warmly before he nods once more for you to go. Like a proud father, he watches you take tentative first steps into an entirely new future. Only when you open the doors of the establishment does he mentally tell his proxies that wait inside of the newest member’s arrival, and then zip out of existence as you know it.

Tim waits at the diner with a small frown on his face. He’s not entirely pleased with the news his boss has given him and it shows. He's drinking far too often from his coffee cup for his group’s liking.

“Ease up,” Brian huffs as he pushes Tim’s coffee cup back to the table and away from his lips. “You’re gonna be bouncing off the walls.”

Tim rolls his eyes and picks up his coffee cup much to his right hand’s chagrin. “I’m handling it how I want to,” he mumbles into the lip of the coffee cup.

“Come on, it’s not the end of the world-”

“It’s a child,” Tim cuts him off. “The youngest person we had prior to us was Toby, and he’s-”

“I’m w-what?” Toby hums as he comes back to the table, sliding comfortably back into his seat.

“He’s bitching about the kid we’re getting,” Brian answers as he absentmindedly stirs his drink with his straw.

“Is he n-now?” Toby chuckles. “I’m s-surprised you’re n-not more w-w-w-worried, to b-be completely h-h-honest,” he breathes out in a teasing tone, lightly elbowing Brian who smiles for a moment in response.

“I fought my demons on this issue and won,” Brian smirks. “Masky here clearly hasn’t.”

Tim rolls his chocolate colored eyes once more and leans back into his seat, looking at the fourth and empty chair that will eventually be filled by you. “I honestly don’t think you two are worried enough,” he grumbles under his breath before he crosses his arms over his chest.

Snickers ring out from his two companions. Clearly, they find amusement in his worry. Tim almost hates to admit how worried he is.

You’re not just a runt, you’re a child. A literal child. Something about having you in this life feels morally and ethically wrong, and he knows that. A part of him is scared you’ll just… Fold.

Brian has had his reservations about the situation, but overall, he has made peace with it - for now. He’s not too thrilled over the Slender Man putting a child in his group, but at the same time, he’s nowhere near as frazzled as Tim is.

Toby finds the entire situation amusing. He was the youngest of the group. In some ways, Toby has never quite grown up. That’s not a bad thing though, it just means it’s easier for him to relate to you. And honestly, you aren’t his entire responsibility, so he’s able to be the fun guardian.

That’s what the Slender Man called the three of them, your actual guardians. No questions asked, you were now theirs as much as you are his.

You push through the doors and look around the IHOP, looking for anyone who might have any inkling of what you should be doing. Your eyes dart around and the palace is relatively empty. There’s a few groups interspersed and lost in their own worlds, and you have no idea which one you should be heading towards.

Your thoughts are answered when you hear steps approaching followed by the heavy smell of cigarettes that hang in the air thickly. You look up to see a man in a black t-shirt, with dark and tired eyes. He gives you a faint smile as you look up at him.

“Are you hungry?” He asks suddenly, almost throwing you entirely off guard.

You blink a few times. “Uh, I wouldn’t mind anything else,” you answer a tad awkwardly. You don’t why, but you get the overwhelming feeling to not disrespect him. It’s almost stronger than the feeling to respect your mother and father.

“Come with me then,” he says.

You watch as he begins to walk towards a table and squeak in response before picking up the pace and following him.

Tim weaves you through the sea of tables and sets your sights on a table that has two men sitting across from each other, talking. You look at the two with slight curiosity before the man leading you puts his hands on the back of a brown haired boy’s chair.

There’s a minute pause between the two before the boy silently gets up and joins the blond haired man’s side.

You take a seat next to the man who led you in, a little quiet due to being shy and in the presence of imposing figures (though nowhere near as imposing as the Slender Man) and focus on the table. Remembering to be polite, you keep your eyes trained on the table and open your mouth to greet them. “Hello.”

The blond haired man’s lips curl upwards into a smile. “So she does speak,” he says more as a joke to the other two men rather than directly to you.

The man who led you in kicks his right hand’s shin under the table. “Be nice,” he hisses quietly. “Sorry,” he apologizes, eyes darting to look at you. “Why don’t we uh, go around the table and say our name and a fun thing about ourselves?” He suggests tiredly.

“What are we, five?” The blond haired man chuckles. He winces when Tim kicks his shin again. “Alright, fine,” he mutters under his breath before finally turning to you. “Hi, my name is Hoodie. I really like photography,” he states, an amused twinkle coming to his hazel eyes.

You perk up slightly.

“M-Me next?” Toby asks before deciding to go up himself. “Hi, I-I’m Toby. I c-can’t feel pain.”

You raise your eyebrows and look over at the pale, vaguely grey skinned boy. “You can’t feel pain?” You inquire, voice raising slightly to convey your budding curiosity.

“Mhm,” he hums, a smile slowly coming onto his lips. “You c-c-can slap m-me, I won’t f-f-feel it.”

You glance at the other two men who both nod out of unison, sly grins curling the corners of their mouth upwards. Almost shyly, you lean over the table and open your hand. You look at Toby for confirmation and close your eyes, hitting him across the face as hard as a twelve year old can muster. When you open your eyes after your hand made impact, you see that he’s unmoved.

There’s nothing in Toby’s eyes that tells you he’s masking the pain either. He’s genuinely unbothered. “S-See what I m-mean, Princess?” He chuckles as you sit back in your seat, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, yeah, Toby is special,” the man who brought you in chuckles tiredly before waving Toby off. “Anyways, my name is Masky and I’m your group leader,” he tells you in passing.

Brian rolls his eyes and lightly kicks Tim’s shin from under the table. “That’s not a fun fact.”

“D-Ditto,” Toby agrees as he crosses his arms over his chest. “T-Tell her a r-r-real fun fact.”

Tim pauses for a moment before he finally sees the stars in your eyes. He finds it hard to not indulge you. “Hoodie and I used to go to the same college together,” he finally states, earning an approving smile from both Brian and Toby.

You want to press the topic when the waitress finally makes her grand appearance.

“Hi, hon! Apologies for not getting here any sooner. Did you want something?” She asks with a warm smile on her dark lips. “I can get you some juice to start off with if you don’t know what you’d like yet?” She continues in a semi-speculative tone.

You think it over for a second before looking up at her. “I would like some apple juice and a small thing of chocolate chip pancakes if that’s okay with you?” You’re both asking her and the men at your table.

“Sure thing,” she hums. “Anything for you boys?”

“We’re fine, just stuff for the little lady,” Tim replies. “Though uh, I would like another pot of coffee,” he trails off.

The waitress takes the empty pot of coffee and then walks back to the kitchen to get what you asked for.

“Alright, what about you?” Brian asks as he rests his elbows on the table, hands under his chin as he turns his attention back to you. “Name and fun fact.”

“I’m Reader,” you begin, not noticing how their expressions shift slightly. “And a fun fact about me?” You take a moment to consider what you’re going to tell them before divulging into one of your hobbies, drawing. You mention the alcohol markers your father gave to you on your last birthday, your twelvth.

The three men listen to you attentively all the while holding a conversation in their heads.

‘Holy shit, you never mentioned that this was the Wraith’s kid-’ Toby’s voice hurriedly exclaims through the mental connection he shares with his teammates.

‘She can’t be right,’ Brian tacks on. ‘This can’t be his kid, the man didn’t have any kids,’ Brian jumbles out. On the inside, he is screaming, but outwardly, he shows he’s happy to be listening to you.

Tim mentally scoffs. ‘Now you know why I’m so horrified,’ he grumbles in a very lightly annoyed tone. He knew the Wraith, your father. He was a good man by proxy standards, and flawed by human ones.

When Tim first received the news from the Slender Man that he was taking in the Wraith’s child, he almost passed out. The responsibility of taking care of not only a child, but a legend’s child? He saw the light and it was NOT as beautiful as people make it out to be. You are his responsibility first and foremost, whether he wants this or not. He watches you with furrowed brows, only to find that during the

The night begins to dwindle on, and it’s clear that you’re getting sleepier. Besides, the table knows that you’ve probably never stayed up until midnight and it’s nearing that odd hour. The IHOP is almost completely empty, but every now and then stragglers come in to have a cup of coffee and hashbrowns. It’s a slow night.

“You’re looking tired,” Brian says softly as he watches your eyes lid.

You fling them open and shake your head. “I’m not tired at all,” you pout. You cross your arms over your chest, but the position proves to be too comfortable and you’re already nodding off again.

“Yeah, we’re calling it a night,” Tim says as he begins to get out of his seat. “Hood, cover the money. I’ll bring her to the car. Toby’s driving.”

“May the gods have mercy on our souls,” Brian wheezes under his breath as he reaches into his pocket to find his wallet and pay.

Toby lightly slaps his teammate’s shoulder before pushing in his seat and stretching slightly.

You watch with weary, tired eyes and slowly begin to drift off in your seat, barely even noticing how Tim carefully scoops you into his arms.

He’s able to pick you up like you weigh nothing, and really, you don’t. At least, not to him. He holds you as gently as he can and begins moving to exit the IHOP as softly as possible, not wanting to wake you. He doesn’t doubt that you’ve had a rough time leading up to this paired with the fact your father is dead too.

Toby opens the IHOP’s door for Tim who is still carrying you and then clicks open the car as well. “W-Why don’t you h-hang out with h-her in the backseat? We h-have quite the d-d-drive until we make it t-t-to Alabama,” he suggests as he opens the back doors of the car behind the driver’s side. He then moves to allow Tim to do his work before slipping into the driver’s seat.

Tim hums thoughtfully before nodding. He gingerly sits you into the car before carefully prying your backpack off before dropping it softly to the floor of the car. After that, he puts your seatbelt on and closes the door gently, once again, to not startle you awake.

He then walks around the back of the car and gets into the passenger side’s back seat and puts his own seatbelt on, exhausted and wanting to take a nap himself. He absentmindedly watches the doors of the IHOP to see Brian waving good night to the staff in the building before he heads over to the car where Toby brings it to life.

“She asleep?” Brian asks as he takes his spot in the passenger seat.

“Yeah,” Tim replies quietly. “Quiet from here on out and head talk,” he finishes just as softly before Toby begins to drive out of the parking lot.

You stir a bit as the car moves, mostly staying in a sitting up position until Toby finally enters the expressway heading down south to the temp house that the Slender Man wishes for them to essentially ‘raise’ you in. Your body falls as he turns onto the long stretch off road and you remain sleeping, head now resting on Tim’s lap.

Instead of moving you, he chuckles quietly to himself and then reaches in the back, groping around for his jacket until he finally finds it. Once in his hand, he drapes it over your small form. He watches you for a moment or more before relaxing back in the seat himself, quietly succumbing to sleep alongside you.

Toby and Brian watch him from the rear view mirror, ghosts of smiles on their faces.

You wake up late the next day. A groggy glance at the car’s clock shows that it’s almost past 2 in the afternoon. Goodness, you’ve never really slept in like that before! You shoot up, clearly startled.

“Nice to see you’re up,” Tim says in a slightly teasing tone as he stops gazing from out the window. “Really tired, huh?”

You nod slightly and allow your body the time to wake up. “I guess so?” You reply in a slightly embarrassed tone, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “Where are we going?”

“Alabama,” Brian answers as he glances at you from the rearview mirror. “Gonna be living there for a little while.”

“Why’s that?”

“The Operator wants us to be closer to him while you grow,” Tim says before he turns his attention back out the window.

When you give him a confused look, Tim relents, drops his shoulders and takes in a deep breath. “Alright, listen up, this is gonna be a lot.”

You look at him with stars in your eyes.

Tim begins to weave to you a story of the culture and society you are now expected to integrate into. He tells you of the Slender Man, or as you are now expected to call him the Operator's origins. He tells you of a similar being named Zalgo, and it is with him that the Operator tirelessly fights against. It’s an eternal battle that he, and everyone else in the car, doubts will be won or lost in your lifetime.

Tim tells you of proxies, those who serve directly under the Operator and what their purpose is. They are the ones who are held dearest and nearest to his heart and have the privilege of being on the top in this society. Proxies are cold, calculated, and tend to not have free will because they are so blinded by the Operator’s light. Still, there are some instances in which proxies retain their humanity - and that is what makes them simultaneously and strongest and weakest lengths in the hierarchy.

Then there’s the independents. Those that are, as the name implies, independent. While they can come and go as they please, but are still considered the Operator’s children because of how often they work with him. They also benefit from the Operator’s presence and protection, so they too are part of the hierarchy, they have not devoted themselves entirely to him and are considered lesser than proxies. In the Operator’s vision, they are more expendable than his direct children, but more than outliers.

Outliers are the beings that have little to no business with the Operator and do not directly benefit from his influence and protection. They are the blacksheep and scapegoats of the culture you are just learning to swim in. A good chunk of outliers are removed from the society all together on account of them not having exact higher thought, feelings and mentality. They are monsters, cryptids, the things who cause harm but do not think. There are some outliers that are exceptions to the common stereotype of what an outlier is, but they retain that status due to being stripped of an independent title. They aren’t even allowed most times in proxy spaces, but independents tend to welcome them with open arms.

Afterall, both independents and outliers know what it is like to be on the losing side of a classist divide.

Tim also tells you what he knew about your father. Known as the Wraith, he moved like a ghost and struck fear in his victims to the point of spellbinding paranoia that could land them under hospitalization. He made them lose their minds, slowly, painfully, until they were but a shell of what they used to be - a mockery of whatever came before. Your father was a damn good proxy, revered and respected. To hear of his loss was mourned across all three classes, as he was surprisingly fair and just in his treatment of those of lower social standing than him, even going so far as to attempt friendlier outlier contact between the other two, more cognitive groups.

Time and time again on the trip to Alabama, you are reminded that your father was a good man by proxy standards, and flawed in the eyes of humans.

And you can’t help but agree even though what you’ve seen from your father thus far has been minimal at most. You love him in the way any child would love their shadow.

“I only ever really saw him for special occasions,” you begin to explain, eyes focused on the passing trees, hand out the window as you guide it like an airplane as Tim drives the car. They’ve been shifting drivers every other hour now. “He was so kind and warm,” you continue, voice soft and fragile, fluttering like a butterfly’s wings. “I wish I could have known more of him.”

You get the sense that your teammates agree.

“Y’know,” Tim begins. “He would be pleased to see you’re taking up this mantle of his.” He throws you a supportive glance from the rearview mirror. “I remember him being worried he’d thrown you into a life where you’d come out the other end hating him. But, from what I’ve heard, you accepted your blood with relative grace.”

You feel a heat rise to your face as you focus on how the air glides over your hand, lifting it like a bird. “Yeah…” You trail off with a semi-awkward chuckle.

Tim throws you a knowing glance, smiling softly before turning back to the road.

You arrive in Alabama sometime during the night. The car, which was being driven by Toby once again, pulls into a house somewhere off the beaten path and mumbles about the foliage before he turns on his brights. The place looks relatively spooky, but in a very picturesque way. He continues driving on the uneven terrain before finally reaching the front porch of the house.

There, two men are sitting and talking. The one in the white hoodie looks up from his conversation with the blue masked man and waves, stepping down the first two steps to meet your group halfway.

Toby breathes out with a chuckle and turns the car off. “W-Were you g-guys waiting here a-all day for u-us?” He asks as he exits the car, twirling the car keys in his fingers before tossing them over to Tim, who catches them like second nature.

“Anything to see our favorite cannibal and hurricane of a being,” Brian lightly ribs, making the man in the white hoodie grin and the blue masked man chuckle.

Quietly, you get out the car and round it so you’re near Tim, mostly eyeing the two men with adrenaline coursing in your veins. The appearance of the man who is paler than the moon frightens you just a bit.

“Who’s this little sunflower?” He asks as he turns his attention from almost play fighting with Brian and Toby to waltz over to you. He’s just as imposing as everyone else and leans down slightly to match eye level with you.

“She’s W-Wraith’s k-kid,” Toby hums as he crosses his arms over his chest, head turned slightly to gauge how you’re feeling.

You look up at the clad in white man and attempt to smile. “Hi, I’m Reader, who are you?” You ask softly, still not entirely comfortable in his presence.

A grin begins to light up on his face. “Jeff. Jeff the Killer.” He crouches down and holds out his hand to you.

You grip onto Tim’s forearm, hiding behind him like you did with your mother when he nods that it’s okay for you to say hello.

“He won’t bite, not while I’m here,” he says in a reassuring tone. “You can say hi,” he gently encourages.

You shyly hold your hand out to the man you now know as Jeff and shake it, amazed that he feels like a still smouldering fire. “Killer?”

Jeff suppresses a giggle and nods. “That’s right. Your father was a good one too,” he compliments before letting your hand go. He then turns his head over his shoulder. “EJ, stop being a wet blanket and come say hello to the sunflower.”

The man on the porch scoffs before slowly getting up from the stairs. He stretches slightly as he walks over. His mask startles you as he comes up to you. He does not crouch down to meet you like Jeff did. “I’m EJ.” There’s no warmth in his tone, but he holds his hand out regardless.

Jeff rolls his blue eyes and elbows Eyeless Jack’s ribs. “It’s a kid you dickhead, not a patient,” he hisses before elbowing him again. “Try that again.”

Your group laughs slightly in response, but Eyeless Jack obliges his friend.

“Hi, I’m EJ.”

“What does that stand for?” You ask as you take his hand into yours, shaking it. Your other hand remains firmly planted to Tim’s forearm. He’s just really comforting for you in such an uneasy situation.

You notice Eyeless Jack give Tim a slight look, almost asking if he could do so before getting a very reluctant nod.

“Eyeless Jack.”

“You have all the grace of a drunken sloth” Tim sighs.

“What? You said I could be real.”

“No lead up? You just?”

“Masky, you know I respect you more than most proxies, but you’re literally going to train her for this stuff. There’s no use in beating around the bush. Look,” the grey skinned man pauses for a moment and begins to slip his mask off.

You watch in deep curiosity as you look upwards, wondering what he looks like. When you get your answer, your curiosity grows. Though, it shows up as a shocked fear despite that not being what you feel.

“You okay, Reader?” Tim asks softly as he looks down at you.

“You b-b-broke the kid,” Toby says with an eyebrow raised, leaning in the doorway of the temp house before Brian shakes his head with a stupid grin, heading into the house to set things up and properly accommodate everyone’s move in.

“Yeah, because he’s so ugly-”Jeff is barely able to say before you cut him off.

“You are so cool!” You suddenly exclaim, small hands reaching upwards to Eyeless Jack’s face and to signal him to come down so you can see him better.

Eyeless Jack’s stoic face blooms into a smile as he crouches down almost instantly, a heat rising to his cheeks over the compliment.

You immediately leave Tim’s side to look over the grey skinned man’s face, fingers gently brushing over his cheeks. “What is this?” You ask excitedly, clearly referring to the inky black tears that waterfall from his eyes.

“Some goop that comes from my eyes when my body decides I need to eat the food most of you don’t,” he explains, holding back his amused laughter at how gently you touch him with all the wonder a child can. Normally, Eyeless Jack would not let anyone touch him, nor would he let a stranger get remotely this close to him, but he’s admittedly charmed with you.

“Jeeze, Masky, you never told us Wraith’s kid wasn’t a psychopath,” Jeff teases slightly as he rests his forearm on Tim’s shoulder.

“To be fair, I didn’t know either - we really haven’t spent too much time with her,” he chuckles warmly as he watches you brush your fingers through Jack’s hair, amazed that the texture is so soft despite it looking scratchy and a little dry. “Okay, Reader, that’s enough petting EJ,” Tim says as he rests his hand on your shoulder. “I think our uh, meat eating friend needs to get some food in his stomach judging by how many tears he’s producing right now.”

“Do I have to?” You ask as you step back from Eyeless Jack, allowing the tall man to stand up and recompose himself.

“Yup,” Tim replies, popping the ‘p’. “Besides, it’s late and I’m not messing your sleep schedule up anymore,” he finishes as he nods for you to head into the house.

“Will we see these two again?”

“Of course you will,” Tim says as he begins leading you into the house, waving goodbye to the two men who are about to head out into the woods. “You have all the time in the world,” he hums, pleased you made a good impression on some of his society's most prominent figures at the moment.

You turn over briefly and smile widely. “Bye! I hope to see you soon!” You bid before finally being ushered into the house by Tim.

Both Eyeless Jack and Jeff wave back, smiles on their faces.

“See you soon, sunflower,” Jeff murmurs to himself.

A pregnant pause comes between the two best friends.

“You see what she’s doing to him?” Jeff absentmindedly chuckles as he and Eyeless Jack begin to travel into the darkness of the woods.

“What a softie,” Eyeless Jack agrees.

“Takes one to know one,” Jeff retorts.

The two laugh.

Tim spends most of his time teaching you and that’s only because the Operator keeps sending out his teammates over him. It’s probably just how the tall man wanted it. You soak up information like a sponge. Everyone can see it.

He teaches you everything he can. For instance, the proxy hierarchical role is strict and considered one of the most respected of rules. Group leaders are leaders because the Operator says they are, but it can also be taken by force. That normally doesn’t happen though. Group leaders hold the responsibility of ensuring their proxies are taken care of, and if they are new, properly integrated into the society. That’s what he’s currently doing with you.

Next up comes the right hand. Not every group has a right hand because some group leaders are paranoid or jerks and cannot learn to trust, but it is highly recommended group leaders have a right hand. This group’s right hand is Brian, or as you know him, Hoodie. Right hands provide guidance when group leaders are conflicted, and can step in on behalf of their leader depending on the situation. They are to be just as respected and revered and can be the stand in should a group leader be missing. This role is not given, it is asked.

Then come what Tim lovingly refers to as ‘the middle children’. Those are the proxies that aren’t group leaders, right hands, or runts. They are the ones who just exist as part of the group unit. They have no significant power but are allowed to participate in the hazing process. ‘Middle children’ tend to pop up when runts outgrow their runt status or a new runt takes their place. It is possible to have multiple ‘middle children’.

Runts are the lowest in the unit. They are the newest in their group, but not always the newest or least inexperienced. If you are traded amongst groups, you become a runt, but in such cases as this, the hazing process is nowhere near as brutal as it would be for those who are inexperienced and coming into the proxy life for the first time. Because runts are usually in an initiatory stage and still learning, they must be bent and broken until the group leader says there is no further need. Runts are often the lapdogs of the group and tend to do everything the rest of the group does not want to do. They are considered the most expendable.

The hazing process is something that you are exempt from. Tim told you it was because you are a child, and he is not a child abuser. Still, after learning of the hazing process, you admit that you feel sick to your stomach. The hazing process is brutal in every sense and can sap the life out of the proxies it affects. Everything goes when a runt is in the process, from mental, emotional and physical torture. Depending on the group leader, the process will last anywhere from a few weeks, months, to even years.

You are thankful you are exempt.

Tim teaches you more and more as the months go on, and still, with stars in your eyes, you soak up information like a sponge. Technique is something he’s always testing on you, and it plays like a fun game.

“I’m going to wait upstairs and read,” he says one morning. “Maybe get some other work done. Wait down here for however long you need, and tap my shoulder without me hearing you. Stay silent as possible. If I hear you, you lose.” He then gets up from the kitchen table and heads upstairs, coffee cup in hand before he heads into the study.

You watch Tim leave and furrow your brows, your heart racing. So far, he’s drilled stamina into you, basic self defense, and other things young proxies might need but this is the task that makes your heart palpitate. You hear him open the study door and half way close it before he settles in and begins reading.

You don’t want to rush into this. So, you take your time, just silently moving from the kitchen to the bottom of the stairs, that task in itself taking until the afternoon. You don’t want to mess this up.

You hold your breath as you make it to the bottom of the stairs. Even though it’s carpeted, you don't want any part of you betraying your stealth. You wait at the bottom of the stairs, inching up step by step until you finally reach the top.

The sun has set by the time you wait outside the wall in front of the study door.

You hold your breath as you quietly step into the doorway - and you see it - Tim has flinched. Hopped up on adrenaline, you take your time and slink your way behind him before finally tapping him on the shoulder.

He doesn’t jolt, but he turns around and smiles widely. “Good job!” He compliments, standing up and stretching his limbs. He’s been sitting an entire day, after all. “I’m really proud of you.” He pats the top of your head and you see it in his eyes- he’s actually super proud of you.

But he flinched when you waited in the doorway.

He knew.

Still, you accept this victory with grace, wondering what else he might teach you.

Tim teaches you so much as you grow older under his care. Though one of the most monumental lessons was after you took a life for the first time at fourteen. He had wanted to wait until you were sixteen, but the Operator demanded it.

You’ve learned so much knife skills from him, weaponry in general, but nothing he could have taught you would have prepared you for what it means to take a life.

The two of you had just gotten through interrogating a man who really did not deserve to live. He had been blubbering for the past few hours, and Tim was exhausted from trying to weasel information out from him.

“Ghost,” he addresses, his masked face looking at you with budding amusement. “Finish this for me.”

“What?” You say. You know what he means, you just don’t want to actually admit it.

“Finish him for me,” he shrugs. “It’s about time.”

“I don’t know how?”

“Sure you do,” he hums. “You have your knife and I know your skills are more than good,” he says as he rests his hand on his hips. “You could also shoot him. We’re in an area where no one would even care about a gun going off. Or, you could brutalize him,” he trails off as he lists off the ways you could end a life like items on a grocery list. “I don’t know if you have enough power for actually brutalizing him though,” he jokes slightly, lightly slapping the man’s face to keep him up. “Y’hear that, bud? You got lucky. If it were up to me, I’d break off your limbs one by one and tear open your chest letting you see your beating heart.”

The man’s eyes go wide as he squirms helplessly.

He’s not getting out of this one alive.

You awkwardly look at Tim. “What… What do you suggest?” You ask quietly.

Tim’s eyes dart to your gun. “For your first time? Clean and fast.”

Obliging your group leader’s words, you take out your gun and flick off safety. The hardest part is looking them in the eye. You raise it and point it at the man’s forehead, eyes narrowed from behind your mask.

The man is pleading with you, tears streaming down his face.

“Always pull the trigger..?” You begin, attempting to buy some time.

“On empty lungs,” Tim finishes.

You pull.

It’s almost a little sinful to admit how easy murder has become after that moment. For the next two years, you and your group began going out on more missions as a unit. Your power had grown immensely, and the Operator’s point was beginning to show through.

The younger the proxy, the more efficient they become as they grow. He knows children are plastic, and you are his living proof that success must start young. Still, he watches you grow carefully, and Tim keeps his boss in the loop with every little milestone you hit.

First it was ten confirmed kills, then twenty five, and before you knew it, fifty. Fifty confirmed kills before you were sixteen.

Tim himself has grown rather fond of you in ways that no one else has - though, you are easy to get along with. Besides your group regularly spending time with you and falling deeper and deeper in love with you as their little one, Tim has become what you always envisioned the shadow of your father to be.

He’s the first to greet you in the morning and the last to wish you good night. He spends most of his waking hours with you, and it’s a good memory every single time. He trusts you immensely, and in turn, you trust him. Admittedly, he’s always had a soft spot for you and that much is apparent and always has been.

Tim has always been there for you when it all feels like too much.

“It’s nothing,” you mumble as you curl deeper onto your bed, sheets over your head.

“What happened?” He asks in a serious tone, clearly not wanting to play games.

“I said that I’m fine-”

“Bullshit,” he says as he marches into your room, ready to tear off your blankets. He knows teenagers are prone to giving the adults in their life hell, but you’ve never done this until, well, now.

You’re clawing to keep your blankets on but your strength pales in comparison to Tim’s. You screech as he finally tears the blankets from you, expecting full anger but instead, a look of horror.

“What the-what happened to you?” He asks in shock as he looks at the large red claw marks on your midsection and legs. It looks like you fought off a bear. “How long have you been like this- this is dangerous, you could get infected!” His tone is only loud because he’s scared. He wastes no time in scooping you up into his arms and rushing to the bathroom to tend to your injuries.

You hiss in pain but keep your lips tight, not wanting to admit what happened.

You let Tim work on you and disinfect your wounds as his emotions finally come down to a normal place. You realize it’s because he cares about you, but you’re still worried that he’s going to flare up again.

“Are you ever going to tell me what caused this? Or am I to believe some poltergeist waltzed in here and cut you up?”

You avert your gaze from the only solid father figure you’ve ever had. “I… I snuck out late at night and got attacked by the notdeer,” you mumble.

“What?” He sounds genuinely confused, as if he didn’t hear you correctly.

“I snuck out late at night and got attacked by the notdeer,” you speed out again, face burning with embarrassment.

You see a plethora of emotions pass over Tim’s face as he applies another bandaid to one of the more minor cuts on your leg before he settles on relief. “Holy shit,” he breathes out as he drops the products he had been working with. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” he breathes out as he takes you into his arms, squeezing you as tight as he can without causing any pain to your body that is still healing.

You feel tears well in your eyes as you hug him back.

Your skill grows so immensely, that your group and the Operator trust you with going on one of the most high stakes missions he’s ever sent modern proxies on. He hasn’t sent you a group on something like this since… Goodness, the 1700s? It’s been a while.

The Operator asked you to hunt down Zalgo’s favored son and kill him. It sounds easy in words, but in practice, near impossible.

“He’s sending us on a death match,” mumbles Brian. “I-What do you guys think? Are we ready?”

You and the other two shrug, not knowing what to say. You just know that you will be following Tim’s lead, as he is your group leader and the man who matters most in your life.

“I’m a-a-apprehensive,” Toby hums. “But, I t-t-think with our collective t-talents, we m-might have a shot.”

Tim looks at you, wanting to know your input when you hesitantly nod. “Guess we’re going.”

Finding Zalgo’s son was easy, but pinning him down was anything but. Everything had gone so smoothly up until it was time to face off with him, the man of the hour.

Toby and Brian were preoccupied with fending off Zalgo’s proxies who were placed in the house to keep his favored, most beloved son safe, and you and Tim had managed to slip in.

It was just the two of you with Zalgo’s son, and he was beating the two of you close to death.

“I’ll ask again,” his smooth, velvety voice growled. “Who do you consider the most expendable in your group?”

When neither you nor Tim answer, the child of Zalgo screams in frustration and rage before barrelling towards you, grabbing your weakened body and throwing you into the large stained glass windows.

Due to the sheer force of how hard he had thrown you, you tumbled out onto the grassy lawn, air stolen from your lungs. You laid on the ground gasping like a fish out of water before slowly attempting to crawl back in and help Tim.

Your fingers hoisted you up through the broken windows, allowing you to see what was going on inside. And it horrified you.

Zalgo’s son was holding Tim up by his neck, choking the life out of him.

“Who is the most expendable?” He demands again.

“I’m… not..!”

“TELL ME-”

“Fuck you-” he barely manages to wheeze out.

You’re panicking, wondering what you can do to help him when the son leans in exceptionally close.

“Say it.” He tosses Tim’s body to the ground, watching as he weakly attempts to get back up.

“R...Reader,” he admits. “She’s the most… She’s the most expendable,” he coughs out, blood and other things being released from his damaged system. “You already threw her out-”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I ended her now?” The son taunts, eyes shifting to the stained glass windows where he hurled you out.

Tim shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m saying-” he cuts himself off by coughing more. “I’m just saying she’s not prepared, she’s still weak-”

You feel your heart stop. You listen into his thoughts, he’s emotionally vulnerable, and see that he’s telling the truth. There isn’t any second thought that’s telling you he’s fibbing to buy time.

“You don’t trust her?” He inquires, bending low, ready to choke the life out of Tim again.

“I don’t,” he weakly says. “In fact, she’s due to be transferred from us soon-” he’s cut off by the son laughing and lifting him up again by his throat.

The son looks over his shoulder to see tears streaming down your cheeks. “And you call me a monster,” he cruelly laughs.

It’s cut short by Toby and Brian breaking down the door, shooting the son with his father’s favorite gun.

Tim is once again dropped to the floor, and Brian rushes to help him.

Toby leaves their side and sprints to the window to help you. He sees you're crying. “W-What’s wrong? W-Where does it h-h-hurt?” He asks, worry lacing his expression as he helps you back over.

You shake your head and refuse to say anything.

The car ride back to your temp house is awkward at best and downright uncomfortable at worst. You are sitting in the passenger seat because you refuse to sit next to Tim who had admitted something you weren’t really supposed to find out.

And the other two men, both Toby and Brian know it too.

‘Is it true?’ You ask the right hand, looking emptily out the window. The lights that pass overhead are counted as mental busy work.

‘Reader,’ Brian’s voice sighs. ‘I… I’m really sorry,’ he says. ‘I fought him on this, but… But being a proxy isn’t easy-’

‘So you’re abandoning me?’ You ask, tears threatening to fall from your eyes again. ‘You’re gonna leave me in the hands of some strangers because I’m not good enough?’

Brian sighs deeply and glances at you briefly as he continues to drive. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I don’t accept it.’ You shift in your seat and curl up, not wanting to even look at your group. They’ve basically broken your trust, but hearing it from Tim? The man you viewed as most important in your life? The man would talk to you over cups of coffee on the rooftop before the sun came up? The same man who had once said you were the child he was never allowed to have?

He called you weak. Expendable. He has said you are not worthy of his trust.

The first time your anger boiled over was a few days after downing Zalgo’s son. It was just the two of you in the living room, your other two teammates out on other errands. Every day felt like a ticking time bomb of when you will be released to another group.

“We need to talk,” Tim says.

“About?”

“What… What I said back then.” He still has marks on his neck from the son attempting to choke him to death.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He sighs deeply. You have every right to be mad at him. “It’s not that simple,” he starts. “I never meant for it to come out like that,” he says with a frown, eyes not entirely meeting you. He attempts to explain further, but you don’t want to hear it.

You get up, waving him off. “Shut up.”

“Reader-”

“Shut. Up.” You storm upstairs.

The fights do not get any lighter. They say time heals all wounds, but in your case, it exacerbates them. It becomes a nearly every day affair now.

Words are shot like bullets into the house that used to be built by the loving relationship you had with Tim. But, ever since he uttered those words and dug his heels in deeper over the fact you were actively challenging him, you drifted further and further from him.

Toby and Brian try to stay out of those conversations. They both care about you, but at the same time, they understand that being a proxy really isn’t easy. You get jumbled around, shaken up, and sometimes, traded. While no one is replacing you, the fact Tim agreed to let you go was what hurt the most.

According to Toby, he never even fought for you.

You leave them at the same diner you met them at. Sixteen years old and ready to be in the hands of another group. You sit in the passenger seat of the car, eyes empty, and heart torn.

“Do you want us to come in with you?” Brian asks with a small smile.

You shake your head. “No.”

He sighs and drops his shoulders. “I…” He pauses, and when words fail him, he leans over in the driver’s seat and wraps his arms around you. You hug back, realizing your beef isn’t with the right hand and allow tears to well in your eyes. He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “It’s going to be quiet without you,” he mumbles. He looks at you with all the adoration an older sibling might as he lets you go.

Toby, has gotten out of the car at this point and walked around the front, opens your door and leans down.

“No, let me,” you say softly as you unbuckle, grabbing your backpack and whatever else you may need before stepping out. Once you’re standing, you find yourself tangled in Toby’s arms.

“I h-hate goodbyes,” he admits as he sways the two of you.

You hug him back and smile softly. “I’ll be seeing you, yeah?” You mumble as he squeezes you tighter.

He nods. “Y-You better!” He laughs, not allowing his thinly veiled choked up tears to enter his voice as he lets you go. Toby checks you over once more, nothing but love in his eyes as he reluctantly takes your place in the passenger seat. You can tell he’s bitter over finally having it back.

Tim is in the back seat, passenger side. He looks at you through the window of the car, eyes red and puffy. He wants to say so much to you and nothing at all.

You share in the sentiment, nod slightly and fight cursing him out again, then head into the same place you met them in. Ready to be a part of a new group. One that hopefully, will not doubt your abilities as a growing proxy.

When you head in and walk out of their lives, Tim’s mask falls, and tears begin to roll down his cheeks. He feels like he can’t breathe, like he’s suffocating and can’t even think clearly.

“Fucking drive,” he coldly hisses as he takes in deep, labored breaths.

Brian, not wanting to fight his leader and understanding the man hasn’t been this emotionally broken since Jay’s death, obliges him.

Tim watches you greet your new team, and his heart breaks all over again.

You’re now twenty years old. My how the time flies. You are more than an established proxy now, and your new group treats you as such.

There’s four of them, your new family.

A group leader named Wallace, who is fair but kind. A right hand named Theo, who is a nightmare in proxy form. A ‘middle child’ named Ruth, who vaguely reminds you of your mother. And finally, an independent by the name of Nyein.

They’ve been good to you over the years you’ve known them, and you can tell they genuinely love you in their own way. You feel like you can tell them almost anything and everything, but everyone has skeletons in their closet and you are no exception.

It’s Wallace’s job as your group leader to understand his proxies and be able to understand them at all costs. He doesn’t mean to pry while it’s still fresh.

“So, how are you doing this fine evening?” The deep voiced proxy asks as he joins you on the balcony of the hotel the five of you are currently staying in.

“I could always be better,” you answer. When you sigh, he gives a knowing hum. “What?” He shrugs. “Pardon my reach,” he begins. “But, Timothy…”

“Too early,” you cut him off.

“Right, my bad,” he apologizes. “We can always come back to this later.”

You huff.

Ruth inquires about it next. She’s gentle in her approach, and you almost spill it all to her, but the pain of what happened ices you back over.

“I understand that you and your previous group went up against Zalgo’s son?”

“Yeah.”

She gently moves some of your hair behind your ear. “How did that go?” She sees your expression fall, and she frowns. “So that’s what happened,” she hums, not even needing you to say what happened directly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you say. “Not like you contributed,” you mumble. “He didn’t want me.”

Her hand rests on your back, silently telling you that you can always find comfort in her.

Theo asks in the most brash manner he can. He doesn’t really care about feelings or making people uncomfortable, but he does respect you.

“So, Masky traded you like pokemon cards huh?”

You throw a decidedly hard punch at him.

“Take that as a yes.”

“Are you fucking with me?” You groan in an exasperated tone.

“If it fires you up so your punches stop feeling like taps, sure,” he grins. “Come on, let it out. What did that bastard do to you?”

You answer him with harder punches.

Theo doesn’t respect Tim, but it’s not like he ever respected him to begin with.

Nyein honesty doesn’t ask. They don’t want to make you uncomfortable and they refuse to push your boundaries. They know something hurtful happened, and they understand that pain is carefully guarded for a reason. The only time they ask anything in regards to what hurt you from before was when you were preparing to meet up with your old group for what was ‘lovingly’ dubbed a collaboration.

‘You’re sure you’re okay?’ They ask, cocking their head to the side.

“I’ll be fine-”

‘I know you’re lying,’ they sign with a frown. ‘I can smell that on you, y’know?’

You chuckle and push lightly at them. “If anything isn’t to my liking, you can always eat Masky.”

Their face lights up.

The news that you and your previous team were going to be working together was hell on the ears. In fact, you heard it, and found yourself panicking over the fact you might need to see Tim again. According to Wallace, yes. Tim was still alive and well.

“He looks older though and more depressing,” the blond haired man chuckled. “Fuckin’ hate Timothy.”

Theo rolls his eyes but turns to you anyway. “He’s right on the old and depressing thing.”

You take that thought in and sigh.

Time to face him again.

You and your group decide to meet Tim’s on the edge of the town you all will be invading. Something about mass recruitment and taking out multiple targets. You all know it’s busy work and the Slender Man likes to make you suffer, but it gives you some time to talk until the sun sets.

Ruth and Nyein immediately overtake some time waiting by swarming around Toby and sharing giggles. Wallace and Theo (who may or may not have been talking to Tim prior to this) have run off with Brian to also just talk.

They’re not always at each other’s throats.

That leaves you with Tim.

You’re currently sitting in a grassy field, plucking flowers from the earth and taking in the sweet scent as the sun slowly makes its way to bed. You’ve spent a good portion of time alone, and when Tim finally makes his appearance, you do not stir. You do not acknowledge him.

It’s uncomfortably silent when he takes a seat near you, but not close to you.

“How have you been?” He asks quietly, almost as if he’s scared you’ll take flight again.

It’s been four years, you can reply without anger overtaking your system.

“Decent, like any proxy,” you answer, eyes still honed in on the flowers and how the remaining golden shafts of light filter through the leaves and change the color to something delicate and pure. “And you?” You’re just asking as a formality, not because you actually care.

“The same as you, I suppose,” he answers back, his voice still soft.

Another silence passes until you finally get the urge to look over at the man you once viewed as a parental figure.

Your eyes almost water when seeing him. He’s older now, much older. Still has that kind of youth that comes with being the Operator’s play thing, but he’s sad. His eyes are dark, devoid of light, and soft as if he’s barely holding it together. He still smells like cigarettes.

Tim is the first to speak, a sorrowful smile on his face as he takes in a deep breath and looks at you with an adoration that never truly left. “You look older,” he notes, taking note of how you grew into your looks. You don’t look like that scrawny little preteen anymore. He knows that you’re a young lady now, and he only wishes he was there to see it. “I like it.”

You bristle on instinct. “I don’t need your approval-”

“I know,” he sighs as he turns his gaze up to the clouds that pass overhead. The skies are the faintest of pink and purple. He thinks it’s pretty.

“You look… Older too,” you finally say, feeling awkward and at home all at once.

Tim chuckles quietly under his breath. “Yeah,” he hums. “I’m in my thirties.”

For some reason, it makes you giggle.

He lights up at the sound of your laugh.

When it dies down, the two of you remain in silence, just letting the world pass by as the sun sinks lower and lower. It’s peaceful, nowhere near as hostile as you were originally expecting it to be, and you find that you enjoy the overall experience.

Still, there is a nagging thought in the back of your head. One that reminds you of everything that has happened, and it still stings. It is the wound that will never heal.

As if he was reading your thoughts, Tim breathes out again and continues looking up at the slowly darkening sky. “I really am sorry for what happened,” he apologizes once more. “I was sorry back then, and I’m still sorry now.”

You frown and knit your brows together in confusion. “You… You just let me go, like I didn’t matter.”

“I know.”

“Tim-”

“I can’t undo that,” he says. “But… But I can try that now-”

“Please no-”

“I have better credit in the Operator’s eyes, maybe we could-”

“No-”

“I could ask for you back-”

“That’s enough.”

Your eyes are dark and you can feel something unpleasant bubbling in your chest and throat. When you had first been placed in Wallace’s group, some part of you had some naive childish dream that Tim would come back, take you in his arms and prove that he wanted you and was truly the right sort of man to have as a role model in your life. That dream never came true, so you stopped having it. You let it die and get returned to the earth. You let it drift away.

But at the same time, you wonder what would be different now - if you could even accept being taken back into his group. Would that even be healthy? It took Wallace and the others months just to get you to stop waking up in tears, nearly on the verge of losing your guts through your mouth and to stop you from panicking when one of them said they had to go out. It took them months to get you to even remotely let down your guard on your abandonment issues.

They’d been so patient with you. They watched you grow.

But here was Tim. Sitting next to you in the world’s most beautiful flower field extending an olive branch, wondering if he could ever atone for his sins by asking for you back and making you a part of his group again.

And that makes you wonder, is he doing this because he misses you, or because he feels bad?

The sun sinks below the horizon, and the moon begins to rise in the sky.

An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you.

You have a job to do, and some things?

Well, they’re better left unsaid.

#masky x reader #masky #marble hornets #tim wright #mh #creepypasta #creepypasta masky #angst #eyeless jack #jeff the killer #hoodie #brian thomas #slender man #the operator #creepypasta x reader #marble hornets x reader

[imagineredwood]

Atonement

Summary:  Miguel gave you strict instructions; instructions that you went above and beyond to disobey. Now you have to deal with the consequences.

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x reader 

Warnings: Implied sexual content, sex toys, Dom/sub undertones, punishments

Word count: 2,960

A/N: How are y’all feeling about this one?

“Miguel, come on!”

The cartel leader shook his head as he shrugged into his jacket, his face showing no empathy for you nor any remorse.

“You disobeyed me and now this is your punishment. There will be no negotiations.”

He had been overwhelmingly busy this week, working hard to clean up his public image and make sure that future business partners were convinced that he was legit. Between architecture and agriculture, he had rubbed elbows and shook hands with many people this week and he knew that he needed to be focused for it. That was why he had asked you to make sure you only reached out to him if it was an absolute emergency. For anything else, you were to call Nestor or one of the other guards.

So when his phone had begun buzzing, the screen showing that you were trying to facetime him, he had gotten worried and excused himself from the meeting, only to answer the call and be confronted with the sight of you laying in your shared luxurious bed, toys scattered all around you as you writhed and arched, the most mischievous smile on your face. Miguel had hung up without a word and had given you what you had thought was your punishment.

But this morning you had woken up to the sound of him locking up the safe, your toys now secured behind the near-impenetrable metal. He had also erased your plan before you had even said it out loud.

‘I changed the code so you can’t get in. Don’t even try.’

And now he was going away for business, not due to be back for another four days. All the while you were expected to not use any of your toys, and it hadn’t mattered how much you had begged and pleaded; the boss had not budged.

With that, he was grabbing his sunglasses from the top of your shared dresser and keeping them in his hand. Taking three steps toward you, he reached forward and placed his hand on the back of your neck, binging you forward toward him. His lips were warm and soft as he pressed them first to your lips and then to your forehead.

“Be a good girl and I’ll make it up to you when I come back home.”

Your pout was pronounced as you looked at him through your lashes, voice small and persuasive.

“But daddy…”

Miguel sucked his teeth before giving a small chuckle, impressed with you hard you were trying.

“Usually that will work but not this time, baby. You’re just gonna have to suck it up. Maybe next time you’ll think twice before teasing me when you know I need to be focused on these new business deals.”

He was pulling away from you then and walking out of the bedroom in silence as you trailed behind him all the way down the stairs and to the front door, Nestor already by the car waiting for him outside.

“Miguel, please. Just let me get one out. Just one.”

He did not even respond to your plea, only told you that he loved you as he walked out of the door, your frustration growing more and more with each passing second. With a huff, you closed the door behind him and stalked inside, trying to think of something else to get your mind off the fact that other than your fingers, you had no way of bringing yourself pleasure, at least not how you were used to. And as luck would have it, the knowledge that you had no access to your assortment of bliss had you craving them even more than normal.

You walked around the house and tidied up, dusting, and organizing, rearranging your perfumes on the beige marble bathroom counter. You made a snack and sat outside to feel the wind on your face. You did everything you could to try and get your mind off the punishment that you had been dealt out, but it didn’t seem to be working. You still felt needy as ever and your phone lighting up with a text from Miguel did not help. Opening it up, you saw the little airplane emoji that he always sent when he was already taking off and you grumbled.  How dare he leave you here without any toys? You felt yourself growing irritated about it again, the brat in you firing up.

Then you had a thought.

And if Miguel had still been there, he would have known that the smirk that appeared on your lips meant trouble.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

You hummed to yourself cheerfully as you walked back inside, package in hand. You had spent a good hour late-night scrolling through your favorite site for toys, picking out a new one and you did not hold back. If Miguel wanted to leave you high and dry, you would just have to make do. So, you had bought the expensive toy that you had been eyeing for months; the one Miguel said you couldn’t get because he wanted you to wait until he got it for your birthday.

You had decided in your bratty nature to buy the toy regardless, spending the extra money to have it overnighted.

And used his card to purchase it no less.

You knew Miguel wasn’t going to be upset about the money as that was no object. It was the principle and the flat-out, premeditated disobedience. That was what was going to get you into the biggest trouble. You took the package to your bathroom and then set it up with his card next to it, snapping a quick photo before sending it to Miguel with the caption ��Hope you don’t mind. You always said to use the card for whatever I need.’

With your death warrant now signed, you put the phone to the side and began unboxing the toy, cleaning it thoroughly. You were setting it down to dry when your phone buzzed, Miguel’s reply waiting to be read. Your heart was stammering in anticipation and it took you a handful of seconds to pick the phone back up. When you did it was a quite simple warning.

‘Leave it in the box. If it’s still packaged when I get back, I’ll make it easier on you.’

Your heart skipped a beat. It was easier when you were making the choice to make things harder for yourself. You were already done for now though and you knew it as you looked over the shredded box it had come in. There was no way for you to fake it or even cover your tracks and with a sigh, you reached for the toy, the anticipation of what Miguel was going to do to you once he returned making you sweat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

The days flew by soon enough, Nestor was texting you that he and Miguel were on their way, ten minutes out.

Of course, your bratty attitude had faded quickly after you had found your release and it did not take long for the guilt to settle in. You felt bad for being disobedient and you felt bad for using his card to do it. The prospect of whatever punishment he was going to unleash on you also did nothing for soothing your worries and you found yourself in a position that was familiar.

Guilty and remorseful now that you had gotten what you wanted.

You knew Miguel wasn’t going to actually be mad at you, nor would he ever deal out a punishment that you weren’t ok with, but that didn’t make the anticipation any less intimidating. You had done everything that you could do try and weaken the blow when it came. You had followed all his other rules, including never leaving the house without a guard, keeping your phone on at all times, and making sure to eat well-balanced meals throughout your days, not just quick snacks.

You had a good feeling that those things wouldn’t matter though.

Soon enough the front door was opening, and Miguel was walking through it along with Nestor, both dressed down and looking somewhat tired after the flight. You smiled as they walked in, both men returning it. It was already well into the evening and dinner was ready, the table set. Nestor walked past you first, leaning down for a quick hug before closing and locking the door behind Miguel. Now it was Miguel’s turn and you stepped toward him hesitantly, trying to read the room. He smiled as he saw you, appearing as if nothing were wrong. Almost as if he had forgotten your transgression, though you knew that was never the case.

The cartel boss hugged you tightly, pressing a kiss to your lips that was just as full of love as it always was, and you relished in it. Pulling away, he smiled as he took a deep breath, smelling the food.

And then just like that, he was walking away from you and toward the kitchen.

With brows knitted, you followed behind him, not used to him leaving you alone so quickly after coming back home and not seeing you for days. He was sitting down at the head of the table as per usual, unbuttoning the first two top buttons on his shirt and rolling up his sleeves. The cook was already plating and serving, and you happily trotted over to take your seat next to your husband as you did every night, only for him to shake his head and point to the seat exactly opposite of him at the furthest end of the table.

“You can sit over there tonight.”

He didn’t even dignify you with a look, simply began arranging his silverware as he waited for his plate. You on the other hand stood like a fish out of water, not even knowing what to do or think. Nestor was beginning to make his way over and so Miguel spoke again with a lower tone.

“Did I stutter?”

Consumed by confusion, you relented and made your way over to sit where he had instructed, Nestor’s dark brow arching as he saw you in such an unfamiliar place at the table.  Not daring to question Miguel, he simply took his own seat, and soon dinner was in front of everyone.

You sat and ate, listening to Miguel and Nestor talk between bites as they went over plans for this next coming week. Something about a meeting on Wednesday in the morning and you smiled internally, thankful that since it was in the morning, it wouldn’t conflict with your weekly Wednesday evening ice cream plans. Swallowing your bite of food, you inquired about Miguel’s trip.

“How was the flight, babe?”

Your question fell on deaf ears however, Miguel simply picking back up the conversation with Nestor that he had started, ignoring you entirely. You and Nestor exchanged a look, the guard’s eyes leaving yours quickly and returning to his plate, not feeling like getting in the middle of whatever the two of you had going on. You realized then that this was going to be your punishment and despite there not being any overstimulation or spankings, you could quickly tell that this was going to be one of the worst punishments you had ever been dealt out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

It was bedtime now and you were doing your skincare when Miguel came into the bathroom, stepping up to his sink right beside you and beginning to brush his teeth. With your moisturizer and serum done, you washed your hands quickly before coming up behind him, wrapping your arms around his bare middle.

“I missed you.”

Miguel mumbled around his toothbrush and continued with his dental hygiene. He had kept up the charade all night and you were desperately hoping that he would put a stop to it by the time you were both slipping into bed. You held onto him as he finished up, wiping his mouth, and then drying his face before standing. You stayed holding him, pressing small kisses to his back in hopes that he would take pity on you. Your voice was small as you apologized.

“I’m sorry for not listening and for being a brat.”

It sounded foreign coming from you; usually, you could pay for your forgiveness with your body. You weren’t used to having to apologize. At least not for being a brat. The cartel leader simply turned around in your arms and you smiled, figuring that the punishment was over only for him to hold onto your elbows and gently remove your arms from him, walking away from you and into the bedroom to go to bed.

Once more you stood like a statue with your mouth open, unable to believe that he was ignoring you still. The behavior stung for a moment and then it made you irritated, that remorse and need for forgiveness from earlier disappearing. With a huff, you stripped everything off and then made your way into the bedroom behind him, Miguel already in bed facing away from your side and giving you his back. You climbed in bedside him and tried to snuggle up into him, voice sultry and wanton and you stroked his bare skin.

“Miguellllll. Please baby, just talk to me. I missed you.”

The man shrugged you and stayed facing away if only to stop you from seeing on his face how badly he wanted you.

“Go to sleep, mi amor.”

He paid you no mind after that, not even when you rolled over onto your back and began to run your hands over your naked body, wishing desperately that they were his. Your soft moans and whimpers made him rock hard, but you couldn’t tell, his discipline and self-control top tier. You tried and tried but to no avail. Giving up, you grumbled and covered yourself with the blanket, muttering out a goodnight and not expecting a response.

“Goodnight. I love you.”

That little bit of reciprocation made you smile, and you knew you would be able to crack him by tomorrow.

“I love you too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

It was now three days since your punishment had begun and all battiness had evaded you. You no longer wished to be a pain, nor did you want to keep pushing his buttons. You just wanted to have your husband back. You wanted to have him cuddle and caress you the way he always did. To hold you for a full half-hour in the mornings when you wake up. To let you sit on his lap while he does paperwork at his desk. To press kisses to your forehead while telling you how important you were to him before bed. You missed it all, and with eyes that were due to fill with tears at any moment, you walked yourself into his office. He looked up as you entered, his eyes flinching as he saw the sadness in your features. There were a few tense moments of staring at each other before you cracked and walked over to him. He stood as you made your way over, not an ounce of defiance in you anymore.

He faced you as you came to a stop in front of him, eyes dark and warm as they looked at you. You stood defeated, fully aware that you had lost this one.

“You’ve made your point.”

Your voice was quiet, a touch of misery audible. Miguel simply chuckled, never taking his eyes off you.

“Have I?”

You nodded, looking at him through your lashes, hands clasped together in front of you.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I fucked up.”

“Yeah, you did.”

You nodded once more, struggled with trying to apologize as he stared at you, waiting.

“I shouldn’t have facetimed you that day when I knew that you were busy, and I shouldn’t have gone around my punishment.”

“And?”

You winced and looked down, laughing nervously.

“And I shouldn’t have used your card to buy the toy.”

“And?”

You sunk down further and further into yourself with every prompt, uncomfortable to say the least.

“And I shouldn’t have rubbed it in your face by sending you the picture.”

Miguel stayed looking at you for a handful of seconds with an unreadable face before nodded, his shoulders relaxing some from their raised position of dominance.

“So, what do you say?”

You didn’t hesitate, knowing that it was best to simply get it over with.

“I’m sorry and I hope you forgive me. I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

He stared at you for a little while more, putting on the heat before he let the side of his mouth lift slightly. His hand reached out to you, cradling the side of your face gently. It was the first affectionate touch you had received from him in the near four days after your fuck up and it felt so good you could cry. Eyes closing on their own, your head leaned into his touch, your own hands coming up to hold his where it was. You nuzzled into his palm as much as you could, the cartel leader letting out a soft sigh of content as he watched you relish in his touch.

“You had to learn your lesson.”

You nodded, eyes still closed for a moment before you opened them.

“I did.”

Miguel nodded himself and offered you a loving smile, tugging you into him.

“Then all is forgiven.”

He was hugging you tightly then, his own eyes closing as he enjoyed the sensation of having you in his arms again.

“That was harder for me than it was for you.”

You scoffed and shook your head against his shoulder.

“Doubt it.”

He chuckled, happy to have things back to the way they should be.

“Maybe you’re right.”

General taglist @piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl @elcococruz @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast @iambabyharry @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114 @saturnsaree @multiyfandomgirl40 @destynelseclipsa @sadeyesgf @queenbeered

Mayans taglist @dazzledamazon  @abunnykisses @briana-mishell24 @angelreyesgirl @wrcn9fvlcver @peaches009 @capt-canadian @thesandbeneathmytoes @krysiewithak @bisexual-space-slut @appropriate-writers-name @cind-in-real-life @blessedboo @montanaraed

#miguel galindo #Mayans MC #miguel x reader #galindo cartel #mayans imagine #miguel galindo x reader #mayans fx #imagines

[manicmarsupial]

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You know, I don't think I'll ever have coherent thoughts when it comes to story writing. I literally barf out ideas. So, yeah...enjoy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hosea had managed to trap the strange little thief in his satchel. He desperately wanted to examine the curious oddity he had captured, but a crowded saloon was not the best place. He kept one hand securely over the flap of his bag, preventing the tiny creature from escaping until he’d finished eating.

Hand firmly on his satchel, Hosea left the saloon and mounted up on his horse, trotting to outside the town. Based on how much he could feel the little thing fighting against his hand, he decides not to risk his fingers and puts a thick glove over his hand before gently grabbing the tiny creature.

It could be mistaken for a human…except for the obvious size difference and a long tail. The little thing is squirming, trying to scratch and bite the gloved fingers holding its waist. Hosea changes his grip to a light fist, stopping the flailing arms. He extends a finger toward the tiny creature, who tries to snap at the digit.

“Now that’s not very hospitable of you,” he smiles at its attempt to be fierce.

He can feel it wriggle against his fingers as his other hand moves closer. He carefully runs his finger through the tuft of hair on the creature’s head. The tiny thing looks startled.

“There now, I’m not so bad,” Hosea smiles, keeping his voice soft.

A normal speaking volume might hurt the tiny ears. There were folk tales about races of miniature people, but he never thought he’d ever see one, let alone have one in his hand. The tales called them ‘borrowers’ he recalls. This one, however is not slowing in its struggles.

“Oh, come now. Surely a fearsome creature like yourself isn’t afraid of a frail old man?” he gives a toothy grin.

The borrower takes one look and flails harder, managing to squeeze out of Hosea’s grasp. It pounces off the top of the fingers, only to be grabbed around the waist.

‘Stupid,’ Hosea scolds himself mentally.

‘It probably doesn’t speak English.’

“Slippery little thing, ain’t ya?” he chuckles as the borrower leaps away from his hands, trying at times to clamber up his sleeve.

Eventually he catches the tiny creature, grasping its tail gently between his gloved fingers.

“Shh, little one. I won’t hurt you,” he whispers soothingly, trying to calm them down.

The borrower completely ignores him and tries to swing around, biting and clawing at his leather glove.

Hosea hums in thought, then calls over Silver Dollar. He digs through the saddle bag with his free hand and retrieves a bowl. He holds it just below the flailing borrower, noting with sadness how its eyes widen in horror as it stops attacking his hand and begins trying to jump away.

“It’s alright, you’re going to be safe,” he soothes, placing the borrower into the bowl.

It makes a few unsuccessful attempts to scrabble up the steep edges before curling up at the bottom of the bowl staring at Hosea with wide, terrified eyes.

“There, you can move a little more now,” he places the bowl on the ground, and crouches down, getting a proper look.

It’s absolutely adorable with its tail and oversized ears. Hosea’s stomach makes a grumble, and he rubs his hand over the offending noisemaker.

“I should eat something, you think so?” he smiles as he stands up.

Satisfied his little acquisition can’t escape, Hosea busies himself concocting a mixture of berries and herbs for the borrower, while he can use the rest for dressing. Once he’s satisfied with the mix, he turns to see the tiny creature readying to pounce.

“Don’t even try it,” he laughs, sitting down next to the bowl.

The borrower disregards him entirely and launches itself out of the bowl, to Hosea’s surprise.

He catches it before it lands using the spoon already in his hand. The tiny creature tightens its grip as Hosea bring them closer to his face.

“Now now, don’t be naughty,” he wags his finger at them before dropping them back into the bowl.

Hosea feels sorry for the little wonder, even as he hands them some of the mix, the borrower’s eyes widen. It glances warily at the food, then back to him. Hosea chews his bottom lip in thought.

“Eat,” he gestures to his mouth, hoping it would understand.

The borrower cowers in fear.

“You’re tricky to talk to, ain’t ya?” he smiles.

He runs his tongue over his dry lips. Even his reassuring tone would have gotten past the language barrier, unless…

Hosea extends one hand slightly behind the borrower, the little creature intently watching his face. Hosea snaps his fingers behind the borrower.

It doesn’t react at all. Not even an ear twitch.

“Huh, that explains a bit,” he sighs.

Making sure the borrower is paying attention to him, he takes some of the mix and eats a little of it, then points between the borrower and their portion. He sits back a little, trying not to scare them. It sniffs the mixture tentatively and takes a handful of it. It brings the stuff close to its mouth and looks up at Hosea with a questioning expression.

Hosea nods and smiles, trying not to show his teeth. The borrower eyes him warily as it nibbles the food. Hosea slowly takes off his hat and places it on the ground, then uses his gloves to line it. He cautiously puts his hand in front of the borrower, who flinches back.

He waits patiently and the borrower eventually places a tiny hand on Hosea’s palm before looking up at the man for reassurance. Hosea nods, letting the borrower climb onto his hand. He carefully transfers the small creature to his hat, letting it slide down to make itself comfortable.

Hosea sets up a small camp, glancing at his new acquisition occasionally. It’s watching him with wide curious eyes.

A soft tapping sound prompts Hosea to look at the borrower, now standing on the brim of his hat. It gestures to Hosea’s hand, then does the ‘come here’ motion. Hosea places his hand carefully in front of the creature, who climbs on hesitantly. It fiddles with the cuff of his shirt and taps the button fervently, looking up at Hosea. After making sure he’s watching, the borrower points at themselves, then the button, repeating this sequence several times.

“Button? Is that your name?” Hosea asks.

The little borrower nods happily.

“Well, I’m glad to meet you.”

Button looks startled and leaps off Hosea’s hand.

“What’s wrong? Did something scare you?” Hosea instinctively moves a hand closer to his gun belt.

Button seems to ponder this, then hops forward a little. They put a front paw in the dirt, then drag it along. Hosea realizes Button is drawing. His joints protest as he leans closer to get a better look. Button’s drawing, he realizes, is of a mouth. Button points to the mouth, then to Hosea. Next, they point into the mouth, then at themselves, looking with a horrified expression back up at Hosea, who realizes Button thinks he wants to eat them.

Hosea shakes his head and draws a cross through the mouth. He thinks for a few seconds, then draws in the dirt. Button watches in confusion, squeaking in fright as Hosea’s hand appears beside them. They cautiously climb onto his palm, bracing as Hosea slowly lifts them up. He points at his little drawing and points to Button. Button points to themselves with a questioning expression. Hosea nods, adding a picture of a button next to the drawing of the borrower.

Hosea was quite proud of himself, and that was saying something. He’d made the strange little creature trust him. Not completely, but they weren’t running away or trying to bite him. For someone who prided himself on being an eloquent silver-tongued conman, he was admittedly out of his depth when he discovered the tiny creature had no hearing. However, Button had proved to be quite an artist and fairly intelligent, managing to communicate their name to him.

Currently the borrower was curled up in his hat, soundly sleeping, its tail coiled in front of their nose. Deciding to turn in, carefully moves his hat under his tent, trying not to wake Button, before going to sleep on his own bedroll.

Button wakes up trembling from a nightmare. It’s no secret that humans are cruel, the green scarves especially. Button alone, has had many bad experiences, but this human has been nice, which was incredibly confusing. The man, though surprised, was patient and understanding. It struck Button as highly unusual, even by the standard of their own family. But human or borrower, this man was being nice.

Button, now wide awake, peeks over the brim of the man’s hat, studying the human in the dim moonlight. The lines on the face aren’t as pronounced while he sleeps, and the moonlight seems to make his white hair shine. Around the man’s waist, Button can see a brown belt, with two metal things. They don’t know what the things are, except for the fact fire erupts, then death and destruction is delivered. Button’s only knowledge that these things are loud is the rattling shake when the fire erupts.

Many green scarves have these things, and do not hesitate to deliver death. This man, however, has a scarf, but red, and only went to reach for the metal death-bringer when Button was afraid. But he didn’t bring it out when he realized it was him Button was scared of.

Pondering for a moment, Button clambers up to sit on the man’s chest, finding the slow breathing soothing. The man’s red scarf sets him aside from the other death-bringer carriers, and he’s alone rather than with a group. Button slides down to curl up under the man’s red scarf, a reminder this man is not a cruel green scarf. The slight, constant tremor of the man’s pulse lulls Button to sleep.

The slight discomfort under his Adam’s apple startles Hosea awake. A life on the run has honed his reflexes to respond to anything that could remotely be life threatening, in this case, pressure on his windpipe. Though, as he opens his eyes, expecting to see someone throttling him, there’s nobody there. Curious, he glances down at where the pressure is. He almost laughs in relief when he sees Button’s tail swishing slightly from under his scarf. Grinning to himself, Hosea carefully reaches for a book, letting his new friend sleep.

Hosea had read a few chapters when he felt Button move, the little paws almost tickling his neck. When their head pops out from under the scarf, the poor thing still looks frightened of him.

“Hello Button,” he gives a smile, slowly moving one hand closer.

Button remains wary, even as Hosea extends a finger. A look of surprise spreads over Button’s face as Hosea gently strokes them behind the ear. The old conman is pleasantly surprised when, as he goes to take his hand away, Button wraps their arms around his fingers and pulls it back to near their ear. Hosea resumes stroking, chuckling as the borrower leans into his touch.

Hosea was a bit concerned. He’d been nothing but nice to Button, yet the borrower kept casting wary glances. He can’t take the suspense. He gently taps Button on the shoulder, giving them a little scritch behind the ear. Hosea uses his free hand to gesture to his face, imitating Button’s expression, then points to Button. Button alternates between looking at Hosea, then off into the distance.

Suddenly jumping away from of Hosea, Button starts drawing in the dirt. First, two borrowers, one with a button logo. Hosea points to the other one and gives Button a questioning look. Button taps their chin in thought, then holds two hands out as fists, then wraps the fingers of one hand around the fist if the other, before putting both hands to their chest with a content expression. Given the context, Button probably means friend. Hosea nods in understanding.

Button takes a while to draw out the story. They finish drawing a hat on one human character, before giving Hosea a startled look, then bolting off into the undergrowth.

Hosea feels a sad ache deep in his heart. Taking a breath to compose himself, he grabs his magnifying glass and studies Button’s story. It appears Button and a friend were caught by a human and tortured. Hosea nearly drops his magnifying glass when he finds out this human ate Button’s friend while Button saw it all.

Pattering footsteps make Hosea look up. Button has returned with an armful of leaves. They take one to the drawing of the eating human, placing the bright green leaf around the neck of the drawing like a scarf.

Hosea unsheathes his knife and stabs the image of the O’Driscoll, startling Button to jump in fright to avoid the blade. Hosea scoops up the borrower, holding them against his chest, finger curled around them protectively.

He immediately realizes it was a stupid thing to do. Part of him wants to be selfish and keep Button with him, but he doesn’t want the borrower to feel trapped. Curiously, Button doesn’t seem to be fighting. Their tiny hands and feet are light enough to only tickle his palms, and he can feel the tail swishing lightly. Hosea opens his hands slightly, trying not to frighten Button. Button, however, upon poking their head out from between Hosea’s fingers, is grinning broadly despite narrowly avoiding a knife blade then being swept up into a giant’s hands.

#hey look i can write #I'm still on an RDR2 G/t kick #that won't end any time soon #RDR2 G/t #Red Dead Redemption 2 #g/t #giant tiny #Hosea Matthews #is the best giant #pry that headcanon from my cold dead fingers #he'd use little people to rob other humans #but he'd spoil them too

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 131

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,805ish

Summary: The fight continues.

“Y/N? Did you do it?” Steve asked, still fighting off the creatures attacking them. No answer though. “Y/N?” Still nothing. “I need eyes on Y/N!”

“I’m heading to the lab now!” Bucky responded.

“She seems to be in a trance,” Shuri finally answered, coming up to Y/N. “Her eyes are glowing the same color as the Stone, but it’s clear she’s not really here.”

“And the Stone?” Steve wondered.

“Floating in between her hands. But I can already tell there’s a protective barrier around it. We won’t be able to get to it.”

“I’m here! I’me here!” Bucky exclaimed, running to Y/N’s side. “Shit.” He knelt in front of her, knowing not to touch her. “Steve, we’re going to have to wait this out. Waking her isn’t going to be a smart option.”

“Stay by her side then! She’s one of the few things stopping Thanos from succeeding.”

“On it.”

“I’m going to secure the lab,” Shuri stated, rushing off with the guards.

“Oh, doll,” Bucky sighed. “Where’ve you gone now?”

~~~

Y/N was kneeling in the common room of the SHIELD base she had once called home. Everything had an orange tint to it, so she knew she was in the Soul Dimension. Standing up, she observed the room. No one was there and it looked like it had those many years ago when they first had found the base. Untouched, undamaged, ready and waiting for adventure.

Confused as to why she was there, Y/N stood up and began to make her way around the base. Memories of all the good times and bad she had shared with the team crossed her mind. She had completely forgotten about the troubles in reality as she wondered, eventually finding her way to Coulson’s office. With a shaky breath, she opened the door. Looking around, she froze when her eyes saw it. Saw him.

“Hey, Y/N,” Coulson smiled. He was in a black suit, sitting against his desk. “Told you I’d always be there.”

“Phil?” Y/N gasped. “What… how… this means… you died.”

“About a week ago.” Coulson stood up straight, unbuttoning his jacket. “May should have sent you a letter. Though, I understand why you haven’t gotten in yet.”

“Why are you here?”

“Don’t know,” he shrugged. “The Stone brought me here. I immediately knew it was because of you though. What’s going on?”

“I… Thanos is coming for the Stones. I was in Wakanda, trying to destroy the Soul Stone and now I’m here.” Y/N looked around. “They told me… they warned me.”

“Who warned you? About what?”

“The Stones warned me that if I tried to stop them, they would stop me. This is them doing that.”

“Why would they do that though? Aren’t you suppose to save the universe or something?”

“I am… just not yet… people are going to die. And I won’t be able to stop it…”

“People die every day, not everyone’s deaths is your fault.”

Y/N shook her head. “This is different though, Phil. So very different.”

Coulson sighed and walked over so that he was standing in front of Y/N. “Always been so stubborn and full of heart. But instead of staying here feeling guilty about it all, before it even happens, you need to focus and beat this Stone out.” He set his hands on her shoulders, looking at her square on. “You need to get out there and help everyone else.”

“I don’t—“

“No excuses. Focus. Close your eyes, take a deep breath and focus.”

~~~ 

Back on Titan, the small team there was trying to recover from a moon being thrown at them. Iron Man took the biggest hit. Moon-chunks were still flying everyone, with random debris as well. Mantis, Drax, and Star-Lord were all unconscious, flying through the air. Luckily, Spider-Man was still conscious. He swung through the air, catching the unconscious Guardians.

“I got you!” Spider-Man exclaimed, webbing Mantis. “I got you!” He snagged Drax next, securing both of them to something not moving. “I’m sorry I can’t remember anybody’s names!” He then reeled in Star-Lord.

Dr. Strange and Thanos began battling each other. Both using their available powers to counter the other. After Strange duplicated himself, Thanos used the Reality and Power Stones to discover the real one. He then used the Reality and Space Stones to pull Strange forward, letting Thanos grasp him by the throat.

“You’re full of tricks, wizard,” Thanos said, reaching for the necklace holding the Time Stone.

“No!” Strange yelled as Thanos snapped the necklace from his neck.

“Yet you never once used your greatest weapon.” Thanos crushed the necklace with his bare hand. “A fake.”

Angry, Thanos threw Dr. Strange and his head hit a rock, causing him to pass out. Almost simultaneously, a red and gold device slapped into the palm of the Infinity Gauntlet, bracing the fingers open. Iron Man then made a fast and hard entrance.

“You throw another moon at me, and I’m gonna to lose it,” Tony said, clearly done with Thanos.

“Stark,” Thanos greeted.

“You know me?”

“I do. You and the girl aren’t the only one cursed with knowledge.”

“My only curse is you.”

Small rockets popped out of Iron Man’s back and launched at Thanos. The rockets all exploded on target, momentarily shrouding Thanos in smoke. Before it cleared, Iron Man pile drove into Thanos horizontally, using his single super jet boot. As he bounced off, Tony flipped and stuck the landing, immediately re-configuring his boots into ground clamps and his gloves into rocket-driven battering rams, punching Thanos into the ruined wall behind him.

Thanos shook it off quickly. He reached forward and tore Iron Man’s helmet off, revealing Tony's surprised expression before the suit recovered automatically and re-formed his head protection. Thanos made use of the delay and punched back hard, sending Tony sliding meters away and giving Thanos time to rip the brace device off the gauntlet. He immediately used the Power Stone to stream energy at Tony, who formed a shield to kneel behind just as instantly, getting pushed back even further by the incredible force.

Iron Man slid out from behind the shield, letting the angled energy push him away for a faster start, and whipped back to Thanos. Tony kicked at the Titan with his left foot, turning the boot into a ground clamp at the same time to pin the gauntlet. He kept twisting while his left glove became a ran again, slamming into Thanos’ face and cutting his cheek.

“All that for a drop of blood,” Thanos panted.

Thanos smiled before punching Iron Man, sending him pinwheeling. He then started beating him with his fists. Iron Man attempted to block the blows with his forearms, but Thanos was relentless, picking him up by the helmet and blasting his midsection with the Power Stone. The gaps in the nano tech suit were gaping, as the armor lost the ability to recover from the intensity and extent of the damage. 

Iron Man landed hard from the Power blast, struggled to one knee and fired his right hand repulsor at the inexorable Thanos; the beam was easily deflected by the gauntlet. Tony got to both feet as the suit tried to complete repairs, adding the beam from his left hand as well. Thanos walked right up to him, and backhanded the incomplete helmet completely off Tony's head. He crossed his arms to block a blow from Thanos' gauntlet, and had his left hand caught over his head. 

In desperation, Tony formed what's left of his right glove into a short-sword, which was also easily caught by Thanos, snapping it off clean and driving it through Tony's left side. Thanos then walked Tony back until he was sitting, and placed the gauntlet almost comfortingly on Tony’s head.

“You have my respect, Stark,” Thanos said. “When I’m done, half of humanity will still be alive.” He let go, straightened and stepped back. “I hope they remember you.”

Tony was a little distracted with the pain, blood drooling out of his mouth and compromised breathing. Thanos raised the gauntlet, closing his fist, all three of the Stones glowing.

“Wait,” Thanos said, noticing the problem. He unlisted his hand and looked at the side of the gauntlet where the Stones sat. “The Soul Stone,” he growled. He looked around, realizing that someone had been missing from he whole fight. “The girl.” He glared at Tony. “Where is she?”

“Away… from here,” Tony panted.

“AHH!” Thanos screamed, powering up the gauntlet. 

“STOP!” Strange shouted. “Spare his life… and I will give you the Stone.”

“No tricks.” Strange shook his head and Thanos pointed the gauntlet at him instead.

“Don’t!” Tony pled.

Dr. Strange reached up and plucked the Time Stone out of its hiding place. His opened his tremoring hand and the Stone floated to Thanos. Strange and Tony watched as Thanos took the Stone and dropped it into the thumb setting, the energy pulse making him wince.

“Two to go,” Thanos stated.

An energy blast hit the gauntlet and Thanos grimaced in surprise. Screaming in incoherent rage, with his helmet up and firing from both hands, Quill came flying straight for Thanos. Thanos didn’t bother responding to the assault, simply using the Space Stone to disappear. Star-Lord flew through where Thanos had been and crashed, rolling several times.

“Where is he?!” Quill exclaimed, standing and de-helmeting. Tony was stitching up his stab wound with his suit. “Did we just lose?”

Tony looked at Dr. Strange, clearly saddened. “Why would you do that?” He asked.

“We’re in the Endgame now,” Strange responded.

~~~

“Focus harder, Y/N!” Coulson ordered. “The Stone is trying to keep you in here. You need to get out there and help your team.”

“I know, Phil!” Y/N responded, frustrated. She ran her hands down her face. “I know…”

“Momma!” She heard a boy’s distance cries. “Momma!”

Y/N looked up, standing front he seat she was in. “Is that… no. Impossible. He’d be just a year.”

“Age doesn’t work the same in the Soul Stone,” Coulson replied.

“Momma!” The cry was frantic, clearly something was wrong.

“AJ?” Y/N responded.

“Momma!” 

“AJ!”

A little boy, probably no more than six, came barreling into the room. He quickly latched onto Y/N and she bent down to hold onto him.

“AJ,” she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. She pulled back and knelt down, cupping his cheeks. “You’re so big.” He was the perfect mix of Y/N and Tony.

“There’s a problem, momma,” the little boy told her, trying to catch his breath. 

“A problem? What’s the problem?”

“With daddy! He’s in trouble.”

“Dad? What’s wrong with Tony?”

“Thanos hurt him and now Thanos is headed for Earth. You have to do something.”

“I will, sweetheart,” she pressed a kiss to his head. “I will. Can you do something for me, AJ?”

“Of course, momma.” 

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at her son. “Stay with Uncle Phil, okay? He’ll take care of you while I can’t. And don’t worry about me or your dad. I’m going to fix this.”

“Okay, momma.”

“Your momma and daddy love and miss you so much, you know that right?”

“I do,” the little boy nodded. “I love you too.”

Y/N gave a teary eyes, tight lipped smile. “That’s a good boy. You go stand back with Uncle Phil, alright?”

“Alright momma.”

She stood up as her son hurried over to Coulson. Her and Coulson made eye-contact. “Take care of him.”

“Are you kidding?” Coulson smiled, picking up AJ. “I’ve always wanted to be Uncle Phil. Now, focus.”

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath. She held her hands in front of her, palms up, as she closed her eyes. She could feel the Stone pushing against her, wanting to keep her there. But she wouldn’t let it, she had to be stronger. Focusing on the need to leave and the power surrounding her, Y/N began to channel it. Quickly, she could feel the power building inside her, begging to be let free.

“Keep going momma!” She could hear AJ cheer.

Y/N took in as much power as she could, before she felt like she would explode. Opening her eyes, she looked at Phil and AJ. They were both taken back my the incredibly amber shade Y/N’s eyes had taken, but they knew it was the Stones.

“Don’t let him forget me,” she told Phil.

“Never,” he responded.

With one last look at her son, Y/N closed her eyes and turned away. Letting out a painfully scream, the power inside her blasted out, cracking the inner walls of the Soul Stone.

~~~

“Bucky!” Steve called. “How’s it going up there?”

“She hasn’t moved, Steve,” Bucky responded with a shake of his head. “She’s— wait.” Bucky looked closer at the Stone floating between her palms. “The Stones cracking. She’s doing it!”

“Let me know when she’s done.”

“Come on, Y/N,” Bucky muttered. “You can do it, doll.”

As the Stone shattered into pieces, falling onto the ground, Y/N shouted out in pain. Her hands found the floor, stabilizing her from falling on her face.

“Oh my— Steve, she did it,” Bucky told the others, pulling Y/N into his chest. “She destroyed the Stone.”

“Good,” Steve replied. “Now you two need to get down here and help us hold them from getting Vision.”

Bucky held Y/N close, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You did it, doll.” He rocked them. “You did it.”

“Bucky…” she whispered, pushing away to see his face. “I—“

“Everyone, on my position,” Steve directed over the comms. “We have incoming.”

“What the hell?” Nat wondered.

“Cap,” Bruce said, “that’s him.”

“Eyes up,” Steve ordered. “Stay sharp.”

“Get us down there, Y/N,” Bucky said. “We have to help them.”

Arriving through a portal, ready to fight, Y/N and Bucky watched as Steve didn’t even get to strike before he was set back by purple energy from the Power Stone. T’Challa tried next. His armor was fully charged, kinetically, and he leaped high, claws extended. He was easily grabbed by the throat and punched to the ground, his armor discharging violently. Falcon was next, swooping in, but was stopped when his wings became rubbery and unable to sustain flight.

As Rhodey tried to stop Thanos next, Y/N noticed Vision and Wanda off to the side. Vision was kneeling before Wanda as she was channeling her energy towards the Mind Stone. Bucky rushed up to Thanos next, only to be punched away by the Power Stone. With a shaky breath, Y/N stood in front of Thanos.

“There you are, my little one,” Thanos smirked. “You took something from me.”

“It wasn’t yours to keep,” you responded.

“You know, the Stones warned me about a person able to channel them and use them to destroy me. I just didn’t imagine them like… this.”

“And I didn’t imagine you purple, but I guess we all have our disappointments.”

“I know what you did with the Soul Stone. You're foolish to think that could possibly stop me.”

“You’re foolish to think I can’t.”

Channeling the Stones, Y/N began to fling debris and rocks at the Titan. Only for him to block and destroy them before he was hit, also by using the Stones. Okoye flung a spear at Thanos as Y/N tried to keep him distracted. Unfortunately, Thanos was still able to throw both Okoye and the spear to the side, all while fighting Y/N and wrapping Natasha in bands of Earth. Groot tried to use the roots to stop the Titan, but Thanos easily broke them as he blocked Y/N’s assaults. 

Finding a lucky moment of weakness, Thanos was able to fling Y/N across the clearing. He marched over there, ready to punch her, but Steve slid under his fist. The Captain screamed as he tried to hold Thanos off. Thanos, though, slammed his other fist into Steve’s head, rendering him insensible.

“Steve,” Y/N muttered, crawling over to her brother. She gently shook him. “Steve, come on.” Nothing.

Panting and aching, Y/N looked up just in time to see Wanda holding back Thanos while finishing off the Mind Stone. Y/N gasped sharply as a pain rolled over her whole body. Thanos walked closer to Wanda as their energies subsided and Vision fell over, lifeless. 

“I understand, my child,” Thanos said. “Better than anyone.”

“You could never,” she snarled.

He reached down, stroking her hair. “Today, I lost more than you can know. But now is no time to mourn. Now… is no time at all.”

He reached forward, clenching the gauntlet. The Time Stone glowed and flowed green energy around his fist. In response, time began to reverse. Y/N could feel the Soul Stone and Mind Stone repairing themselves.

“No,” she gasped. Trying to stand up, she watched as the Mind Stone and Vision became intact and conscious once again.

“No!” Wanda screamed, lunging for Vision before she was swatted away.

Thanos picked up Vision by the throat, lifting him to eye level before digging his hand into Vision’s forehead and yanking out the Mind Stone. He pulled it loose and Vision immediately went limp and colorless. Y/N tried to run over there, only to be knocked down by Thanos tossing Vision at her. 

Setting the Mind Stone in place, Y/N noticed the Soul Stone appearing in front of Thanos. Angrily, Y/N portaled in front of him.

“There’s nothing you can do to stop me now, my child,” Thanos smirked.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t try,” Y/N responded.

She opened a small portal, using it to grab the Soul Stone before Thanos could. Thanos growled as his hand swiped over where hers just disappeared. Before Y/N could do anything, suddenly she was wrapped up in roots and slammed against a large tree. She groaned at the impact she took, especially where her head was concerned. Thanos marched over, chuckling darkly.

“You can’t over power me, even with the Stones on your side,” Thanos said.

Taking a shaky breath, Y/N tried to channel the Stones to get free. Her breath hitched as she could feel the Stones but they wouldn’t let her use them.

“We told you this had to happen,” the Stones taunted her thoughts. “We told you that we would stop you.”

Y/N breathed shakily as Thanos used the power of the gauntlet on her. She screamed out in pain as her had was forced open and the Soul Stone was freed. Thanos smirked as he took the Stone and put it back in place. The energy surge from the gauntlet caused Thanos to bellow and Y/N to cry out in pain again. She could feel it all, but not access the power. Tears built up in her eyes as she met Thanos’.

“I’m so sorry, my child,” he said, not sounding sincere at all. “I wish there was another way.”

He lifted the gauntlet at Y/N, powering it up. Bracing herself, she clenched her eyes shut and turned away. But before Thanos could blast her, a bolt of lightning strikes him, digging him into the ground and grinding him back. Thor arrived, eyes glowing with power. He raised his new ax above his head and hurled it at the Titan. Thanos fired with the whole might of the gauntlet against it, but it didn’t slow the ax. The ax slammed right into Thanos’ chest. Thor landed in front of Thanos.

“I told you,” he growled. “You’d die for that!”

Thor took hold of the back of Thanos’ head and forced his ax in deeper. He stared at Thanos angrily as the Titan cried out in pain.

“You should have…” Thanos said weakly. “You… You should have gone for the head.” He lifted up the gauntlet and snapped his fingers.

“NO!” Thor screamed.

Y/N let out a scream that sounded that she was dying, cause she sure felt like it. She could feel the Stones working together to complete Thanos’ plan.

“What’d you do?” Thor asked. “WHAT’D YOU DO?!”

Y/N cried as Thanos used the Space Stone and disappeared. She was still suck on the tree. Steve stumbled into the clearing, holding his left side.

“Where’d he go?” Steve asked. “Thor… where’d he go?”

“Steve?” Bucky called, coming into the clearing. “Y/N?”

Bucky and Y/N made eye contact as he suddenly stumbled over and collapsed into ashes. Steve, in shock, walked over and touched the ground where Bucky’s ashes were.

“BUCKY!” Y/N screamed. “NO!”

Letting out a loud, sorrowful cry, the roots holding Y/N to the tree burned off her and she fell to her knees. She could feel the Stones letting her access them again, almost in a taunting way. With heaving breaths, Y/N lifted her head up and watched Wanda, Sam, Groot, and T’Challa all disappear, turning into ash like Bucky.

“NO!” She screamed again, unleashing a wave of power from her that rippled across the battlefield. “No….” She whispered.

~~~

On Titan, the team was collecting themselves. Mantis propped up Star-Lord, Spider-Man helped Tony to his feet, while Drax and Nebula managed to limp over on their own.

“Something’s happening,” Mantis said before disintegrating into ashes. 

Quill looked behind him to see Drax disintegrate.

“Quill?” Drax said as he dissolved.

Quill stared in horror as he turned back to Tony, who was starting to panic.

“Steady, Quill,” Tony told him.

“Aw, man,” Quill said, also disintegrating.

“Tony,” Strange called calmly, “there was no other way.” Then he disappeared as well.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter said, realizing he was fading away. Tony stared, horrified. “I don’t feel so good…”

“You’re alright,” Tony said, trying to be calm but his voice was shaking and he was looking at Peter in terror.

Peter was stumbling towards Tony, terrified. “I don’t know what’s— I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t—“ He fell into Tony’s arms, clutching him tight while beginning to cry. “I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go, Mr. Stark, please. Please, I don't wanna go. I don't wanna go… I’m sorry.” 

And then Peter turned to ash in Tony’s arms. Tony fell forward from the lack of weight in his arms, staring at his hands in disbelief.

“He did it,” Nebula stated.

~~~

Steve, Thor, Rhodey, Nat, Bruce, and Rocket were all mourning near Vision’s dead body. Y/N was still on her knees beneath the tree, holding and rocking herself as she cried.

“What is this?” Rhodey asked. “What the hell is happening?”

“… oh, God.”

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

#tony stark x reader #bucky barnes x reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #Phil Coulson x Reader #iron man x reader #tony stark imagine #bucky barnes imagine #steve rogers x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #winter soldier x reader #Avengers infinity war #infinity war #the infinity stones

[kisekinodrabbles]

Can we get detective Aomine, who gets assigned a female partner but from the start they're always at each other's throats. During an undercover case, reader has to be super flirty and Aomine gets all jealous and mutual confessions ensues. Maybe some sexy times at the end? :') Sorry if this is too specific, feel free to come up with your own interpretation! I'm such a huge fan of your work Sam and I'm so excited that you're opening your askbox even just for a little while!

ngl idk what im doing here but this is the last request in my inbox so i wanted to finish it haha pls enjoy (not proofread so excuse mistakes) - also my first time writing smut in like years so forgive me!!

Sometimes, Aomine thinks that if he isn’t a law and order professional, he thinks he might actually commit murder and hide your body away in some undisclosed, obscure location. Most of the time, you feel the same way about him. 

The two work in different divisions—Aomine in homicide and you in robbery. The two divisions have always been highly competitive especially given how much overlap you both encounter. Things can get territorial, but their teams are used to your snide remarks and Aomine’s verbal assault. It’s just the way the world works. 

After all, the two of you were in the same graduating class. You, a valedictorian by books. Aomine, top of the class by combat. It’s natural that the two of you are so competitive with your conflicting personalities.

The two of you may have also fucked at some point. 

–

“I’m not fucking working with her, are you kidding me?” Aomine spits out at his boss. Any other person would’ve been kicked out of the room or probably fired, but Aomine is the best detective in his division so Akashi would never do such a thing. For now. Aomine’s been wearing his patience thin. 

The red-haired man sighs, folding his hands together atop his desk. “Aomine, I understand you both have had your immaturity in the past. This, however, isn’t the time for such trivial matters. There’s a double homicide downtown during a robbery. She’s the lead for the case on the robbery end because they’ve been tracking a series of these.” Aomine opens his mouth to argue again. “No more buts. She’s already down there getting witness statements. Unless you want to be behind again, I suggest you get in your car and start driving.” 

He grits his teeth. Breathe. Don’t strangle your boss, he’ll probably kill you first. “I’ll take Wakamatsu.”

By the time he arrives on the scene, a crowd has gathered behind the police line, snapping pictures in the hopes of getting something Twitter worthy. He growls past all of them and ducks underneath the tape. “Where’s the officer that called it in?”

“Inside talking to the detective.”

“I’m the detective,” he snaps right back, knowing full well you’re already three steps ahead of him. And you definitely won’t let him forget that.

He marches past the thick front doors, Wakamatsu in tow. From a distance, he spots you talking to another officer. When he finally approaches you, he realizes that you’re in a skin tight dress covered by an oversized police jacket.

Your name slips past his lips. “Did we interrupt a hot date?” He smirks.

You whirl around, knowing full well the irritating voice that grates on your nerves. Aomine Daiki. “Unlike you, I have actual friends and actual plans on a Friday night. Did you decide to give your wrist a break for the night?” 

Aomine bites back, “Well, it’s not getting much rest either when I had my fingers knuckle deep in something tight and wet tonight.” Complete lie but he’s not about to lose this battle. “Not sure you know how that feels though.”

“If you’re talking about the pudding in your fridge, you might want to ease up on that. Doesn’t look like it’s doing you any favors,” you smile right back at him, knowing full well you’ve won this argument.

Aomine growls low under his breath, jabbing Wakamatsu hard with his elbow when he hears the snort escape him. “Brief me on the situation,” he tells the police officer.

“Well, uh, I already told this detective here—”

“I’m the other detective in charge for homicide. Now, you better fucking brief me before I tell your captain.”

The guy glances at you warily and you just laugh. “Told you he hasn’t gotten any in a long time. Come on, sugar, I’ll brief you on the way down to the vault.” You curl your finger in a gesture to get him to follow you and he sucks up his pride for the first time and do as he’s told. If he solves this case, he still gets the credit and you can go back to that sewer where you came from.

There are two bodies at the vault and forensics are already working to collect evidence when they arrive. “Your area of expertise, double homicide. Both are surprisingly the robbers. Four of them broke in, only two were seen exiting with money bags. No other casualties.”

“Fucking weird,” Aomine mutters. It’s not new for robberies to go wrong, but for two of them to die with no civilian casualty? That’s fucking weird.  

“Interesting, isn’t it?” You grin, seeming way too pleased considering there are two dead people in front them. “The ammo is the same as the previous bank robberies in the area. We’re going to assume they’re linked to the Red Dragon clan.”

“Fuck,” he groans, “I fucking hate those guys. Bitches to deal with. Hard to infiltrate.”

You flick your hair over your shoulder, grinning at him. He can’t help but draw his gaze to your neck, a very attractive neck. Now that he notices how tight that dress is, he can’t help but admit that it has been a while since he’s gotten any action. The curves of your breast defined so clearly by the fabric that stretches across the mounds, the flow of your hips, every dip and rise. Your exposed legs further emphasized by your heels. God fucking damn. He feels his pants tighten as he licks his teeth. Get it together, Aomine. 

Of course, the clothes do nothing to remove the memory of your nude body from his mind. He’s seen all parts of you some time ago. A drunken mistake that ended in a brief, but extremely satisfying night of passion. Your tight pussy wrapped around his cock, your nails digging into his biceps. He can still picture the sheen layer of sweat on your skin as he rams into you, your broken moans falling from your lips. 

“Well, lucky for you,” you start again, pulling him out of the hazy cloud of lust. “I already have someone on the inside. They’ve set up a meeting for me tomorrow night meet with the head’s son. I’ll try to get some information done.” 

“Lucky for you, I’m free tomorrow to be your backup. You’re welcome,” Aomine smiles, “Don’t fuck this up. I don’t feel like cleaning up after your ass.”

“I should say that about you, asshole.”

–

Aomine is sat in a dingy van just across the street from the bar you’re having your meeting. You’ve hidden your mic in the perfect spot, a location which you do not disclose to Aomine. However, he has a feeling it’s somewhere promiscuous that he wants to be aware of. They can see the restaurant clearly, their brat hacker Sakurai having plugged into the restaurant’s security cameras. 

“Shut the fuck up, Aomine. I can hear you munching on your stupid sour cream and onion chips.” You mutter into your mic before the guy arrives. You sip your wine and take a deep breath. This isn’t the first time you’ve gone undercover but it is the first time to have Aomine behind you while you do so. 

The detective looks down at the can in his hands. Sour cream and onion. How did you know? He sets it aside, bringing the mic up to his lips. “Maybe you should do your job better and focus on your meeting instead of listening to me. Why are you so obsessed with me, hm?” 

However, a man’s voice on the other side of the headphones has him straightening. “Good evening, I didn’t expect to be meeting a lovely lady like you tonight,” the sleaze says and Aomine can just imagine him kissing your hand. “When Tanaka said I’d be meeting with the right hand of White Claw, I didn’t expect it to be a woman.”

“Well, we are moving up in life, Mr. Ito.”

“Your good looks are certainly quite persuasive. I’m sure there are ways you can convince me to strike a deal.”

Fucking. Sleaze.

“Oh,” you laugh lightly, “what a flatterer. You’re not so bad yourself. I can imagine people fall at their feet for you.”

“Well, I am quite knowledgeable in more ways than one. Perhaps I can show you tonight after dinner.”

The two banter back and forth, trading flirty comments that puts Aomine on edge. You’re supposed to be doing your job and he knows that. He knows this is all an act but you’re a damn good actress. 

“Aomine, where are you going?” Wakamatsu’s concerned voice carries through the speaker.

You freeze. This fucker better not screw this whole operation up. “Well,” you say, “this has been a lovely dinner. I’m sure we both can come to an agreement without doing anything reckless.” 

The double meaning, a sentence meant for the man across from you and the man listening to you rings clear. Aomine growls, sitting back down petulantly in his seat. He was about to rage in there and start a war, but holds himself back. Be professional, Aomine. Job first, dick needs later. 

“The same to you. It’s been a pleasure meeting you,” the man smiles. “Are you sure you won’t join me for the night?”

Aomine snarls low into his mic. Wakamatsu shoots him a weird look. You let out a little giggle and he knows it’s meant for him. “No, thank you, Mr. Ito. I’m afraid I have other commitments to tend to.” 

When he knows it’s safe, he storms into the restaurant where you still sit, sipping your drink. Sliding into the seat across from you, he rolls his eyes. “Enjoy yourself?” 

He didn’t see when you were set up with the mic earlier so he also hadn’t seen what you were wearing. He’s almost grateful because he knows he might’ve lost it if he did. Tight ass dress, deep neckline that shows ample cleavage (he’s always a sucker for this), sultry eyes, red lips. God, all his favorite things packaged into one. 

Your lips quirk up. “The breadsticks here are quite nice.”

“Fucking hilarious. Let’s go.”

“Why the hurry?”

“Unless you want Wakamatsu to hear me fuck you, you better dump that mic and get your ass up.”

You lean back, narrowing your eyes at him. “I’m not sure I like your tone.”

“Trust me, you don’t have to like my tone to enjoy what I’m going to do to you.”

Licking your lips, you consider your options as you bring the wine back to your lips. “Fine,” you mutter, unclipping the mic from the strap of your dress. Aomine moves faster though, snatching it from your hands and dumping it into the wine. Before you can protest, he already has a hand wrapped around yours, tugging you up from your seat and into the back room. 

You’re stumbling in his manic rush, heels barely keeping up with your movements. “Aomine!” You chide as he pushes all the way to the employee break room. The space is fortunately empty and Aomine locks it to make sure it stays that way. “Can you please stop?! You’re such a caveman, I—”

He’s quick to shut you up, swallowing your words with his lips as they slot over yours. He doesn’t waste time, shrugging off his leather jacket as he licks your bottom lip for permission. You gasp a complaint, but he takes advantage of the situation to stick his tongue in, pressing it up against yours. 

All your worries fall away into a moan as he separates from you only to gasp for breath and pull his t-shirt over his head. With nimble fingers, he’s unzipping the back of your dress and yanking it down, leaving your top half exposed. Shivering, you’re about to voice your disapproval but your brain seems to stop functioning the second your gaze lands on his tanned body.

Aomine’s always been attractive. No one can deny. There’s a reason why he’s simultaneously the precinct’s most eligible bachelorette and most insufferable jackass. His confidence matches his skills. His looks live up to his brags. Hard lines and shadows are painted on him like a masterpiece in a museum. His broad shoulders make him look even bigger with his height. His jeans that hang just low enough to be tantalizing with the hint of a v that leads to the space between his legs. 

Your mouth dries up at the sight and Aomine smirks knowingly. You’ve fallen into his bed before, he can make it happen again. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Fifth grade humor doesn’t become you, Aomine.” You scowl as he backs you up against the table in the middle of the room. He effortlessly grabs you by the ass to lift you up and onto the surface, the metal cool against your exposed thighs. 

“Did you dress up for me, doll? Knowing full well that this was going to happen,” he grins devilishly, bringing his hands up to shamelessly cup your breasts. 

It’s not as if you’re embarrassed for being so bare before him. You’re proud of your body and he damn well knows that. You let him fondle you through your bra for a little bit. “No, you animal. I dress for the job.”

“You tell me you wear this flimsy thing—” he teases the light coverage of your lingerie. The lace is sheer and barely covers your nipples, the material holding onto your breasts for dear life. “—for the job?”

“I do my job right, asshole,” you spat right back. “So are you just going to stand there or are you going to fuck me?”

A wide grin stretches across his face. The heat in his eyes carry to his hands as he works to unclasp your bra and let it fall to the ground. Aomine doesn’t waste time as you lean back on your palms, granting him full access to fondle and suckle on your tits. His tongue swirls around the sensitive nubs that have grown stiff in the contrast between the cold air and his warm breath. His teeth graze the sensitive skin hard enough to have you groaning in pleasure. His lips close in around them and suck. He uses his hand to tease and tug your other breast, pinching it to elicit that delicious whimper out of you. Aomine alternates between the two, making sure you stay warm. 

Meanwhile, you let your hand fall to the bulge between his legs. He lets out a small grunt at the initial touch but seems to respond favorably to the way you stroke the tent, nudging his hips forward for more friction. “Is that a gun in your pants or are you just excited to see me?”

“You’re so fucking ridiculous,” Aomine mutters, both humored and unamused by your comment. 

“Fuck,” you let slip as your fingers struggle to unbutton his jeans. “Your fucking pants. Don’t you live in sweats? You choose today of all days to wear your stupid tight jeans?”

Aomine chuckles, “Patience, baby. You know you like my ass in these.”

You do, but you’re not about to admit that. He quickly works off his pants, letting them drop to his ankles as he moves towards you again. While he continues to stimulate your tits, your hand begins groping his cock which is rock hard and peeking from the top of his boxers.

“God, I miss having this inside me,” you whine, pulling the flimsy fabric off and letting it pool on top of his jeans. “Condom?”

“You don’t want me raw? You know you want to feel all of my cock,” he grins. You throw him a glare and he just chuckles as he reaches for his wallet on the floor, pulling out a packet and tossing it onto the table. “But first,” he pauses, letting his hands slide down to cup your pussy, which is admittedly already drenched at that point. 

He hisses when he feels your juices drip and coat his fingers. “You’re so fucking wet, goddamn. How long have you been waiting for this?”

“When that robbery happened, I was about to get laid for the first time in months. So fucking sue me,” you snarl at him. 

“Well, I am here to please,” he wets his lips. He slips one finger in, sliding in all too easily. So he adds another finger and feels your walls pulse around him. He begins pulling it out before shoving it back in, repeating the measure to stroke your walls. He curls his fingers inside as he watches your face closely.

Your expression morphs from irritation to blinding pleasure in an instant. Your eyes slide shut, your lips part to exhale shaky breaths. Aomine seems to know exactly how to angle and twist his fingers to induce a heart attack. The sounds falling from your mouth are ephemeral, Aomine wishes he can film this moment so he can replay it over and over again. 

He pumps his fingers into you and ducks his head to take your nipple into his mouth again, tongue circling the tip. “God, you taste so fucking good. I forgot how wet you can get. Don’t even need lube to slide into you, huh? You’re already dripping for me.” 

“Asshole,” you murmur weakly, clearly in no place to retort. 

“Remember the first time I fucked you? God, you were so easy,” he grins, “you were so wet, so turned on already. Remember when I stuck my tongue in your pussy? Licking up your juices. You tasted so sweet.” 

Your breath stutters in your chest, hitching in your throat. “Fuck you, let’s not forget how quickly you came when I sucked you off.”

“I mean, the sight of you on your knees is enough to get anyone off, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck me,” you groan. Any rational thought has fizzled from your brain. The feeling of his fingers inside you is enough to consume you whole, overwhelming you in waves of rapture. 

“What was that?”

“Dickwad.”

He chuckles darkly, licking his lips again. “Beg me.”

“I’m not going to—”

Aomine yanks his fingers out, looking down at you, taunting you. He waits as you internally struggle with your moral convictions. Are you willing to give up your pride for one night just to get fucked out of your mind?

Easy.

Yes.

“Please,” you huff, “please fuck me.” 

“Please fuck me who?”

Your eyes find the ceiling, wondering what in the hell you did in your lifetime to have met the devil that is Aomine. Biting your lip, you lean closer to whisper, “Please fuck me, Da-i-ki.” 

The man is a sucker for you calling him by his first name. And to get what you want, you’re willing to play into his hands. Aomine lets out a low growl before ripping open the condom packet and rolling the thin rubber along his length. Your pussy squeezes at the sight. Just imagining what it’s like to have that thickness inside of you, fucking you full, has you on edge. 

He doesn’t waste a single second, pulling you forward and slowly positioning himself in front of you. He holds onto his cock, letting the tip trace your pussy lips, circling it and letting your juices drip onto his cock. Stroking the wetness along his dick, he uses it as a lubricant before he slides himself inside you.

When he’s buried to the hilt, Aomine leans forward and lets his forehead rest on your shoulder. Your pussy is so fucking tight. It’s squeezing and throbbing around him with the engulfing heat. He feels as if he’s going to explode right then. 

“Fuck, you really haven’t been screwed in a while,” Aomine rasps. 

“Told you.”

Aomine starts off slow, pulling out and pushing back in. With how thin the condom is, he can feel every ridge, every bump in your heat rub up against his cock. The sensations is enough to have his thighs quivering, but he’s not one to back down. He begins to pick up the pace, thrusting deep inside of you repeatedly. HIs mouth latches onto your neck, tongue lapping and teeth nipping to paint purple blooms upon your skin. 

His movements are building a bubbling pressure in the pit of your stomach. You feel your heart tightening with every move, your insides squeezing. The absolute pleasure that crashes over you has you breathless, your hands finding purchase on his arms. 

He mutters filthy words in your ear, one of his hands reaching up to tangle in your hair. He yanks back lightly, just enough to have you moaning. You like it rough, he’s well aware of that. He pounds into you relentlessly, hands keeping you in place as whimpers tumble from your mouth. 

“Fuck, right there, oh god,” you gasp, “fuck me harder. God, your dick feels so good. Filling me up so full with your thick cock.” 

“Keep talking like that and I’ll be tempted to come in you, baby,” Aomine grazes his teeth along your ear, hot breath kissing your skin. “God, I want to just fucking cream inside you.” 

“Better watch yourself, Daiki.”

Aomine grins lasciviously, sweat beginning to bead his forehead as he attempts to keep himself in check. He feels you tighten your pussy, walls closing in around him. “Bitch,” he growls. You know what you’re doing but he’s not about to let you gain dominance of the situation.

So his hands dig deeper into your hips as he fucks you harder and deeper, his cock pulsating inside of you on the brink of his self-control. “I’m about to come,” he says with eyes squeezed shut. If he sees your tits bouncing as he fucks you again, he might actually combust in that second. 

“Me too,” you panted, fingers scraping down his arms. 

With a few more pumps, Aomine spills into the rubber with a grunt. He feels you convulse around him, your entire body trembling in the aftermath of your orgasm. He can feel his come continue to leak from his cock. God, he hasn’t come this hard in a fucking long time. 

His heart is thundering in his chest from the impact of his climax. He slumped forward, leaning against you for support—also partially to feel your tits press up against his chest. “Fuck,” he huffs.

“That was good,” you admit to yourself, still breathing heavily as you begin fixing your hair. “We should do that again sometime.”

Aomine just laughs, huffing against your skin. “You’re the fucking she-devil.”

“Says the guy who’s fucking me in the back room in the middle of an undercover operation.”

“Dick first, job second.”

–

Wakamatsu looks at him when he walks into the precinct that morning. “You do realize the captain is going to kill you for fucking up that expensive mic, right?”

Fuck.

#kuroko no basket #knb #kuroko no basuke #aomine daiki #aomine smut #knb smut #knb drabbles #knb scenarios #anonymous #popz

[sekceesimps]

A Rose Made of Chains Ch 4

a/n hey all, thanks for 125 followers! Publishing Ch 5 tomorrow night. Might be a delay for Chapters 6 and 7 because of classes and depression. Hopefully I’ll be able to get that out soon. 

This part will lack Kurapika and dive more into reader’s relationship with Chrollo as well as the Phantom Troupe. Hope you all enjoy! 

sincerely Coffee

Kurapika x Reader x Chrollo - Soulmate AU

Part 1:   Teaser,    Ch 1,     Ch 2,     Ch 3  

Part 2:  teaser,   Ch 5,    Ch 6,   Ch 7

Weeks. It had been weeks of you being left here in the dark damp room. After your initial failed escape plan, the man who came and hurt you everyday, whom you later learned was named Feitan, had begun to bring you a small piece of the morning newspaper. It was your only source of entertainment as well as knowledge about the outside world. Nothing significant ever happened, you just looked at the date and tried to distract your mind with the light read. 

It was getting colder too. You could feel the chill of the outside in your room. There was always a bite in the air that you felt in your bones whenever the door opened and Feitan came in. The nice man named Chrollo had offered you a real blanket once. You had shrugged him off, trying to hold onto your last shreds of free will. Your sensible side always got angry and screamed at you to accept the heat. 

Chrollo came almost everyday and repeated his offer to you. Everytime you would say no, but he would still stay. He was the only form of comfort in the cold darkness so naturally you clung onto it, quite literally sometimes. 

Some days he would stay silently by the door and read. This could be silently or out loud to you, it would vary. He always came in with a different book, always mentioning the importance of reading whenever you asked about it. Other days he would ask you about your life and in turn he would answer perhaps one question that you asked about his favorite things. You deduced that he was probably incredibly disinterested in topics regarding himself. You didn’t mind, he had a smooth voice and you had missed having conversations. Once he had even brought you a set of chess for the two of you to play. You could tell that he enjoyed spending some time with you. 

There was another time when you had visibly shivered due to the cold right in front of him. He let out a little grin and hugged you, simply saying that his warm body could easily give you more heat than your clothes. You had clung onto him for what felt like hours all while he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. 

It was one day you were feeling resistant when you asked about his past that he had seemed incredibly off-put. You made the stupid mistake of pressing further and asking about what would happen to you if you kept saying no to his offers. It fueled you to edge him on even if you knew it could lead to your demise. His eyes had held a dull fire as he left and slammed the door shut behind him. Perhaps your taunting had been a little too much.  

He didn’t come back for a week. When he was gone Feitan also stopped bringing the med kit. This made your wounds more aggravated and the torture much more painful. It was slowly breaking down your body and will. The food given to you also was much less nutritious. It was clear that these people, if you could even call them that, no longer cared for your well being. So they’ve decided that they no longer need me, huh, I really am going to die here. 

Surprisingly you were okay with this. The pain was numbing and prevented you from really thinking about anything else. When your injuries had been lighter, you still had the ability to think of rescue and your friends. Now even the thought of your soulmate sent lightning hot flashes of pain through your body. Looking at your soulmark made you want to throw up, since you would have to see the mark of the 12-legged spider right next to it. You sigh and curl up onto the icy floor. Your clothes were damp and bloody, making the chill in your bones even greater. At least when Chrollo came he would allow you to get a new shirt if it had gotten too bloody. You wouldn’t even get to die with your dignity now. 

He had come in rather uneventfully. Quietly closing the door behind him. He came to your room and opened his book. Silent, more silent than usually. It confirmed your suspicion that they were finally going to get rid of you once and for all. 

“Yes,” you voice out weakly. You refused to say more. Your will had given out, but you knew in your soul that if you stayed here any longer then you would die, either from the neglect or from your wounds and the sickness you knew was growing within them. This man could make the excruciating pain go away and all you wanted to do was hope that he would keep his word. Hope was something you had gone dry of. 

He turns back, raven locks slightly obscuring his gleaming eyes. He had the faintest smile on his face, “I’m glad.” He walked towards you slowly, as if you were a wounded animal, which in all honesty you probably looked like right now. He leaned down at your level and gave you a hug. His warmth and smell invade every part of your body. You didn’t mind because now you might survive, “Let me take you to your new room,” his smile grew larger and now more sincere as took your hand, hoisting you up. 

You tried to move, but your legs didn’t seem to listen to your brain and you promptly fell down. You scrunch your eyes close and expect your face to get smashed onto the ground, a final embarrassment. Surprisingly, Chrollo had caught you. You suppose that he decided that you wouldn’t be able to walk on your own so he carried you bridal style. How his lean frame managed to support your entire body weight surprised you. His mellow scent slowly eased you to sleep in his arms. This would be the first night's sleep in a while where you felt genuinely secure. 

»»————-　　————-«« 

Waking up in this new room was bliss. You don’t remember being in as much ease and comfort before. The bed was empty but a window allowed for a single ray of light to come in. You hadn’t been around true sunlight in so long. Your mind briefly wandered to where you could possibly be but that thought was pushed away with a loud growl of your stomach. Oh right, you think, I need to eat something. You got up slowly from the bed and started walking towards the door. You turned the knob slowly, expecting to get electrocuted or something.   

You opened it and padded slowly down the hall hoping to run into Chrollo or at least get to a kitchen-like area on your own. He had probably changed you in your sleep as you were now wearing real clothes in the form of sweatpants and a huge shirt. It was a huge step up from your tattering bloody rags. You kept trudging on and eventually found yourself in what looked to be a common room area. The hallways so far seemed to indicate that this place was an old hotel or maybe a dorm room. You weren’t too sure, honestly you didn’t even know if you were still in York New City. 

The air here smelled damp and sour, like people who sweat and had just exercised lay down on the couches and let their stink stay permanently. I hope I don’t smell like that you thought briefly before you made a left and found yourself in a kitchen. 

Maybe I should have waited for Chrollo, you scolded yourself as you look through the pantry for something good to eat. You had been starved for weeks after all. As you finally reach for a bag of pop tarts on the shelves you hear someone walk in. You quickly grab it and attempt to make yourself as small and non threatening as possible. You take in the appearance of the people who had come into the kitchen, a familiar pink haired woman as well as a short haired blonde woman who had an interesting form of clothing. The pink haired one only chuckled at your meek demeanor and gave you a hand with the food. 

“Paku, this is Y/N, our newest and most gorgeous recruit” she announced lightly and moved to heat up your pop tarts. 

“Pleasure to meet you,” her calming voice was directed at you. You smiled loopily at the blonde, she was hot you think to yourself.  

“All done! Time to go to the meeting,” she called out to you and handed you a plate of your steaming breakfast. Lightly patting your head, trying not to startle you too much. They’re both so hot, you continue thinking. Their stares make you feel overwhelmed, you don’t remember ever being around such beautiful people. 

“Meeting?” you ask weakly as you take a bite. The sugary flavor explodes in your mouth making you let out a soft moan from the happiness of it. 

She and Paku share a smile before saying, “The leader called a few of us to a meeting, just some basic introductions is all.”  you only nod and continue eating. When you finish you hurriedly clean your space and let Paku and the pink haired woman named Machi lead you expertly through the halls of this new home.  

You come across a large empty space with some rubble and chairs where Paku lets you sit in between her and Machi. They had made pleasant small talk with you through the walk and gave you a vague idea of the layout of the area. You were definitely going to get lost but they had put you in so much ease that you felt safe with them leading the way. You had been the first to arrive and sat together in a peaceful atmosphere. 

As time goes by, some people start trickling into the meeting space. You take note of a person wrapped up in bandages as well as a girl with glasses in a cute black turtleneck. A very large man with strange looking ears had come in last. They had greeted your companions and had largely ignored you before sitting down. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that your savior had come in looking quite different. He seemed quieter and more serious, but his entire look had changed. His normally loose raven locks were now slicked back on his head. He seemed less human this way, but if he was really the boss then it didn’t surprise you too much that he looked the way he did. His entire aura simply radiated authority, but in a subtle way. You had noticed how everyone in the room had perked up and stood at attention when he had come in. Even the aloof looking girl in glasses was paying attention.

“Good morning,” he remarked in that familiar smooth voice. You crooned on the inside just hearing it. “As you all know we have our newest potential member here to perhaps take spot number 11,” he stopped briefly as everyone in the room nodded their heads slightly, “and to make sure that she is fit to take that place, I want her to go on her very first mission as a sort of recruitment exercise. It will be a perfect way to test her skills and get her comfortable with the rest of us,” he didn’t look at you but at this point everyone in the room was beginning to glance your way, trying to see what kind of reaction those words would elicit. You remained unmoved by his words, trying to keep a stoic demeanor. “It’s going to be a difficult mission that will only require one other member. Their job is to just assist, but not lead, I want Y/N to do that,” he finished as he looked at you for the first time since he came in the room. His eyes held pride, you knew that he believed you would pass this test. Your lips curved into the smallest and softest of smiles. He continued, “I don’t plan on assigning anybody, so whoever wants to go can just volunteer.”

Machi raised her hand swiftly. She smiled at you and announced, “I’ll go with Y/N,”

Chrollo nodded at her and replied, “Very well, everyone else may leave and go about their business for the day. Machi and Y/N, stay so I can tell you what I want from you two.” With that the rest of the group made their way out of the room. Paku waved at you before also turning and leaving. 

“There’s going to be a museum showing some of the rarest objects in the hunter world. It’s nothing like the auction as these items are more private and are owned by famous pro-hunters. In turn the museum only allows pro-hunters in. I desire one of the rarest nen blades that’s currently being shown off for about 5 billion Jenny. I have the utmost faith in the two of you,” he grinned and left. Your stomach filled with dread, having no idea how you were supposed to complete this task. Machi grins at you too and pats your shoulder. 

“Good Luck, Y/N!” she laughs, “I’ll meet you back in your room in about an hour to discuss plans on entering tonight. I really like you so I hope for your sake that you can get the blade.” she leaves you to your worried deliberations. So this was the life of a thief huh? 

a/n sorry it took so long to get this out, we reached 100 followers much faster than anticipated. Thank you all so much for that we love every single one of you! However, we have gotten some rude comments regarding how long it has taken to publish this series. We assure you that we are trying our best to get this out to you (we're glad you're liking it •u•) but leaving rude comments was unnecessary. Again thank you so much for the support <3!

#kurapika #kurapika x reader #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #hxh #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter x read #x reader #y/n #hunter x hunter x reader #york new city arc #phantom troupe #machi #feitan #hisoka #hisoka x reader #machi x reader #sfw #soulmate #soulmate au

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia Ch 19

Your bags were jumping and sliding around in the back of Madeline's rusty pickup truck. She had been kind enough to offer you a ride up to the lodge when she stopped by the shop earlier.

Madeline had seen the sour look Nate kept sending you and how you were intentionally not looking over towards the soon to be graying young man. Not one to beat around the bush she asked what was up, mam bear mode peeking through.

Nate was just being a dick to you and saying you had to stay with the Cowells longer than what had originally been agreed to. Big Jo seemed fine about letting you go back home now, even with your resolve set to continue hanging out with Toby. But Nate was trying to put a tight leash on you since you “wouldn't listen to reason” - so he said.

Even with security at the cottage updated Nate still thought it best to keep you with them if you were planning to still interact with Toby. More than likely he was trying to make that harder for you to do since staying with them would definitely make it easier for him to keep track of you.

The thought alone set shivers down your spine. Like a constrictor slithering up your back to rest around your neck and do what it does best.

It had been really hard to breathe these last few days.

But all Madeline needed to hear was “Nate” and “being a dick” before she said she'd take you herself. Thereby ending the conversation and silent argument in the shop, as she spun on her heel stating when she'd pick you up later.

Nate hadn't been too happy about the exchange but he could suck your dick. He's been annoying you with all this Toby bullshit and doesn't get to tell you what he thinks right now.

The drive up is silent, but that comfortable kind of silence between two old friends who don't ever really have a need to talk to hang out. It's nice because it gives you tons of time to think about just what you're about to do.

Going over several scripts all at once in your head.

You want to talk to Toby. You still haven't read that file but it just doesn't sit right with you that it was ever even given to you in the first place. Toby being completely unaware of the total breech of privacy makes your stomach flip just like your bags in the back right now. It's not like you ever asked for the detailed life file but at the same time it feels wrong not to let Toby know tht something like that even exists for him. His past being dug back up all without his knowledge or consent. And now here you were about to lay it right down in front of him.

Was this the right move? You're the one bringing it to his attention, if it's something that will mess him up it'll be your fault that he's upset. Jo and Nate may have gotten the information but you still count yourself as being a complacent party to all of this.

Your stomach feels like it's on a drop tower as it sinks further into a pit of guilt.

You feel like the scum of the Earth right now. Hopefully he isn't too upset.

Seeing your downcast eyes, you were a lot more expressive than you ever really realized, Madeline pipes up, “You gon' be ok there sport?”

A small smile bit at your lips. There's a reason Madeline Cobb was known in Kepler as Mama. She took care of those she saw as her own and that was damn near half the town at this point. Hell you'd heard a rumor she raised most this town. The lodge had been her orphanage  before all the kids grew up and turned it into a resort once new arrivals stopped coming. That's probably the reason it's always been so warm and welcoming, it was a home first.

“Yea...just nervous.”

She lets out a small chuckle at you.

“Don' be, 'm sure that Toby boy will say 'yes'. And if he don' well you just come find me. I'll set him right.”

Ok now you were just confused.

“Huh?”

“Don' worry about it, he likes you jus' like you like 'im. It'll work out for you two.” she reaches over and ruffles your hair before jumping out of the pickup. You hadn't realized you were already at your destination.

And it was too late to correct Mama, she'd already made it inside the lodge, about why you were so nervous. The warmth in your face makes you even more grateful for your mask. Barclay was getting bit by the end of the night, the man really needed to get a boyfriend and stop trying to manifest one for you.

The door to the lodge opens again, you hardly paid it any mind. So lost in your own musing you didn't even notice the man walking towards you. Your goat plush had fallen beneath your seat and you were attempting to grab it but it was too far out of your reach.

“You good there?” Toby's amused voice calls, startling you.

Popping your head out of the opened car door. Heart racing faster at the sight of your friend standing there with a small smirk on his bandaged face. You weren't ready for this.

His eye looks better, well like a normal black eye and not a swollen lump that threatened to over take his socket. Now his eye looked like it could still function out of the slight opening. Fuck this was hard enough when you'd pictured only one eye looking at you but now you had to calculate for both!?

Is it weird that this is what worries you? Are you derailing from the actual situation? Distracting yourself so the conversation is easier on you. So you don't have to think about the possibility that Toby won't want to be friends after this. That he'll end up hating you for something you hadn't done.

God you really want to cry.

“Hey, space cadet.” Toby's made his way over to your side and puts a gentle hand on you knee, “You ok? Did something happen?”

He's really sweet, you're going to miss him.

No, stop. You need to get a grip and stop thinking like this. Toby will understand and you guys can continue being friends, a bit awkwardly but still friends. You'd get to hang out and maybe wander through the Monongahela together.

“I...I dropped my goat.”

He cocks his head to the side, brows slowly smoothing out and he gives a gentle squeeze to your legs as he reaches under you, hand searching for your lost plush.

The warmth that was once collecting in your cheeks shoots down past the void sitting in your stomach. Just another thing to add to your list you suppose. After a week of nearly no privacy or comfort you are thoroughly pent up. You don't necessarily want Toby, just need someone or something to help relieve the fire between your thighs. He just happens to be in proxcimity of that fire, poking the flame that hasn't been snuffed during your stay with the Cowells, making it dance and writhe reminding you of the need.

But you can't focus on that yet, you'd give yourself a hand when you finally got back home. Right now you needed to focus on Toby. And having that uncomfortable conversation.

“Here he is.” placing the goat in your lap he looks into your eyes, a slight glint in his.

He's in a really good mood tonight. You have to ignor the whispers in your head, telling you you're about to ruin this for him.

Luckily a tic to the right shoos those thoughts away for you.

“YN?” his hand is back on your knee, it's such a small gesture maybe even completely subconscious but it helps ground you.

You haven't read that file but you can't see Toby ever doing something awful enough to warrant Nate's barrage of paranoia and fear. Even if he did....he couldn't still be bad right? You're such a good judge of character and you called Brian on his masking there's no way you'd miss Toby lying to your face.

“I...” he's looking into your eyes searching as you take a steadying breath, “I just really need a slushie right now.” your eyes drop to the goat in your hands.

You fucking coward.

It's silent for a moment as you chastise yourself for not just coming out and telling Toby you wanted to talk. Toby's hand falls easily from your knee and to his side.

“A'right then, you good to drive?” you really missed your chance here, “'cuz Brian's got Connor tonight.”

Wait what?

You look at Toby who simply raises the right side of his mouth in a lopsided grin. A subtle raise of his right brow tells you he understood what you'd asked for. When was the last time anyone was ever able to read you so well?

“Yes!” you push the goat into Toby's chest and practically dive into the back seat for your bags. “I can drive. Franklin?”

“Don't work tomorrow, so sure.”

His good mood seems to pick back up a bit. He's chuckling as you rush to gather everything and head over to your car, barely shutting Mama's door as you do. Toby gives it a good bump with his hip to make sure it shut properly. He unlocks your car for you and slides into the passenger's seat while you arrange your shit in the trunk.

You catch sight of the skull still in your trunk and figure you'll just leave it as is for now. Since it seems that literally every time you close this trunk you forget it exists. Bye weirdly placed deer skull maybe one day you'll have a wall mount worthy of your beauty.

Before closing the trunk you do rab the file. Maybe having it up front with you will help you actually tell Toby about it.

When you open the driver's side Toby's hand is already outstretched and waiting for your phone, this isn't his first rodeo after all. You can't help but smile as you hand it right over to him. He notices, because of course he does, and beams back at you. Sending more warmth throughout your body. After collecting your emotions the guilt comes back around.

You need to stop being horny on main. And in front of Toby no less. It's weird, like you're riled up for him and not because you're attention starved and haven't known solitude for over a week.

By the time you're driving off the lot Toby had picked you 'Let's drive to nowhere' playlist. A perfect choice for tonight, seeing as these are all either songs to dissociate to or have mental break downs with. And with you obnoxious emotions either is up for grabs. Aside from the music the car was silent as you drove out of town.

You were so wrapped up in what to say to Toby, how to say it, when – that you ended up not saying anything at all. Toby on the other hand couldn't wait for you any longer and broke the silence himself.

A habit he seems to have, must not like silences.

“Normally you don't shut up,” the words were harsh but his tone wasn't for once.

He watches as the scenery changes from quaint country road to interstate. “Did something happen?”

An awkward anxious smile makes its way on to your face. You've never been good at schooling your features and smiling was unfortunately your default in the even of confrontation. It was probably just your brain's way of protecting you from emotional trauma.

“Sorta.”

To his credit Toby waits for three full songs before prying for more information.

“Another attack?” he's on edge.

To be fair you are too.

“No, like hell Jo and Nate wo-would let me leave if that were it.” your head jerks twice to the right. You miss Toby's wince.

Nate barely let you leave the shop today, you had to get outside assistance aka Mama.

“Ok, so what happened then?” as you bit your lip trying to find your words Toby is running through his own list of possibilities. “Dis Ma- Tim do something to you?”

Huh?

Why would Tim have anything to do with this? Are they still fighting? But Brian has Connor tonight...that doesn't seem likely but you've really only hung out with Toby thus far. You don't know enough about their group dynamic.

You also didn't miss the beginning syllable Toby said. Was he trying to say 'Matt', 'Mark', 'Manny'? There were so many names that Tim's alter could have but at the least you've more or less been told there is an alter to begin with.

But why would Toby be concerned about Tim's alter? Was he the one that punched Toby? Were they actually the two fighting and not Tim and Toby? This is confusing just being on the outside, you have no idea how the trio copes with this situation.

“Oh no, Tim and Not Tim have been nice to me.” if you're coming clean about the file might as well come clean about knowing Tim has an alter. This way Toby could pass along the message to Tim and Not Tim.

“Back up, not liter-mrrow – literally. 'Not Tim'? You've met Mas-Ma-Masky?!”

Masky? That's a strange name, but who were you to judge the name someone gave themself. Maybe he's a He/Him enby.

“Not like formally or anything, but I'm pretty sure he was the one that helped me and Ronnie out the other week.” you switch lanes to drive off of the interstate, hoping to find a secluded road to have this conversation on.

God knows it's going to take all of your concentration.

Toby was seething in his seat and you know the tension is only going to get worse going forward.

You can hear him muttering to himself, 'of course' or 'he didn't remember', over and over. Finding a good place to park the car you take it and turn to Toby, who's still lost in his own head.

“Tobias.” you call trying to jostle him and it works a little too well in a sense. As he blurts out, “Don't! Masky's dangerous stay away from him!”

He immediately freeze like he hadn't meant to say that. And while it wasn't a tic it was probably an impulse brought on by his anxious frame of mind. He's popping his knuckles again too.

You don't know why you said it, looking at Toby's wide blown pupils – riddled with fear and nerves, you should've kept you mouth shut.

“Dangerous like you?”

Or at least phrased that a bit more eloquently.

Toby's eyes grow dark and his good eye cuts low nearly matching it's swollen twin. A shiver runs down your spine even though you know the malice is not for you.

“What.” he hisses out.

It's not a question, it's an order. He wants to know what you know and maybe even who told you. Maybe he thinks Masky told you something, since that was the topic of the previous conversation.

Dark eyes watch you like a hawk as you pull the file from the map holder in your door. His chest is nearly heaving with every breath at this point, can he hyperventilate? That's a dumb question he most certainly can. And he's either on his way to that or a panic attack. You hope you don't send him into a panic attack, Connor's not here to help. Connor know pressure though, Toby's had him preform it on you during your spells. Would it work the same if you laid on top of Toby? You're getting too distracted right now.

Not trusting yourself to not just back down now, you hold the folder out to Toby to take.

He's just staring at it like it'll attack him at any moment, and honestly it might...just not physically. He glances up at you. There's a funny flash of deja vu likening back to the first time you met. Cold indifferent and confused eyes looking at you as though you were some strange alien they'd never seen before. This time however there's a spark of something else in them. Something dark that festers beneath the surface. Was that hatred, betrayal, or was that the wall he was building back up. The wall that would sever this friendship.

Stop projecting. He hasn't even taken the file, he can't possibly know what's going on right now.

“What's that?” see.

“Nate got super protective after the attack, I guess the other day you just like rubbed him the wrong way. So, he had someone look into you. That file is everything they found...pretty sure it's your whole life, I swear I haven't read anything. Not even a peek. But Jo and Nate tried to tell me the-”

He snatched the file from you before you'd even said you hadn't looked. He opened it and a second later it was closed and he took a shaky breath before looking at you.

It was your turn to look like a deer in headlights tonight, you knew that breath was one of barely concealed rage. This was it, this was where everything ended, all because Nate had “a bad feeling” about Toby.

But you trusted Toby, he wouldn't hurt you. He was your friend.

“So” he lets out a harsh sigh, “you didn't...you haven't read anything?”

You hastily shake your head, “What did they tell you.” he looks off to the side and his mouth is all screwed up, and not in it's normal mangled sense.

“That I shouldn't see you anymore, you did something bad, awful, terrifying; Nate's list goes on but I sort of...fo the fingers in the ear 'lalala' thing” you say sheepishly, “anytime he tries to tell me something. Jo stops when I ask him to. He's not too worried about you...I think.”

Or he's working behind the scene to keep you and Toby separated for the long run but that's speculation and not the point of this conversation so you don't mention it.

Toby's flipping through the file skimming it, no doubt looking for his checkered past, he finds what he's looking for and nods once continuing on like he was reading a grocery list. Which he may as well have been, a grocery list of all his transgressions. With the way his fingers gripped the edges of the folder you could tell he was putting on a front about the contents.

They did bother him.

“Why didn't you look, why didn't you listen YN?” was he seriously angry at you for that?

“It was an invasion of your privacy. Whatever's in there I wanted you to have the ability to tell me on your own terms – if you ever even wanted to. Not because you were forced into it because I found out from some third party that doesn't even know you.”

“Then why the fuck did you -wrong- practically jump into a car with me and then hand me a file on my shitty life!?!” He slammed the file down into his lap with a lot of force, more than he should have used for sure. “They think I'm a menace and they're right you shouldn't have...you need to...” he trails off looking like he's trying to disintegrate the file in front of him with latent laser eye abilities.

His arms are shaking.

No – he's trembling. The way he's biting his lip tips you off. He's trying to hold himself together, trying to stop himself from breaking. This can't be the same person Nate's so worried about.

“You're biting your lip, that's not good for you.”

“Fuck off.” it's half hearted at best, no real weight behind the words. And he does let his abused lip go.

“It's a breech of trust if I didn't tell you this...I wanted to give you the file because you should know it's been read by two people, to my knowledge.” you place a hand on his forearm, “Toby, I don't know what you've done in the past but...you know you aren't that person now, right?”

He's out of the car in an instant, slamming the door behind him. You follow, as dumb as you understand it is, getting out of your car in the middle of no where with a very unstable person.

“Get back in the car. I mrrow I can't...I need a minute.” his shaking is so much worse now that he's standing, It's even put a tremble in his voice.

“You're stupid if you think I'm leaving you alone in the middle of no where.” you stand your ground, he may need space but this is not the place to have it. You're only a few miles from town, you can get him back to the lodge where he doesn't have to see or be near you.

Hell you won't say a word on the way back.

“Like you're not stupid for ignoring the warnings that I'm dangerous! I've killed people! Did you know that?! Did you even think that's what was so bad!?” he's giving you the same glare he had on when he talked about the fight with Tim.

“I could literally kill you right now, you've driven us out to who knows where but still remained in walking distance back to town. You live on the outskirts of it and it'd be so easy for me to make you disappear and everyone would believe your stalkers got to you.” his chest heaves at a vicious rate.

Despite the venom and truth of his words, you can't find it in you to be scared of him. If anything his rant proves Toby must not have been mentally well during his crimes, he's acting like a cornered alley cat not a serial killer. There's a vice grip on you heart at the thought.

“Ok...are you?”

It's like a switch has been flipped in him and he calms instantly.

“What?” he knows what you're asking.

“Are you going to kill me?” you asked like you'd been asking what time it was.

He stares at you looking you up and down, “No...I wouldn't.” his neck jerks triggering your own tic.

“Then I'm safe.” you slowly approach him, much like you would a feral alley cat. “I trust you Tobias.” you reach out to tough his arm again.

It hadn't worked in the car but Toby does seem to calm down faster when he's being touched. Like the sensation brings him back to reality and locks him there.

“Y-you shouldn'n'n't.”

He doesn't pull away this time as you place your hands gently on his forearms. His eyes raise to meet yours.

“...I've killed.”

He sounds so helpless.

The only thing you find shocking about this is that he actually did it. You know people are capable of all sorts of vile things. But the way Toby's voice breaks, the tremors that run through his body. You can't see any similarity with the horror show you once imagined, a Toby covered head to toe in blood and a vicious grin.

The fact that Toby killed doesn't really phase you much more than the ever present 'how' that rings out. He must have had a reason. Jo wasn't too worried so maybe it was circumstantial. Not to mention Toby's among the general public. Could it have just been an accident? A misunderstanding?

“I don't – no I'm not going to say 'I don't care', because this is something that really effects you but I...I guess what I'm trying to get at is..it doesn't bother me. I know it should but, Tobias I just can't picture you as a murderer.” that blood stained Toby flashes before you singing 'liar', “I got to know you before finding out any of this. So, I know there must've been a reason behind it. And that's...and you don't have to tell me anything.”

Nothing more is said, after all you've said everything you could think of to deescalate the situation. And Toby is frozen as he stares at you. You'd have thought he was dissociating had it not been for the way his eyes still held that tiny reflection of light. He was still present, just unsure how to proceed.

Honestly you were stumped too, you had no idea how to begin this conversation let alone end it.

“My – there was...” you rub his arm in a small circular motion. You don't need to hear anything more, it already feels like too much information that he'd lost the agency for.

But your gentle shushing did nothing because he continued, “Clairse says I had a psychotic break and...just went after the biggest stressor at the time.” he pauses with a deep breath and closes his eyes in the process. “She says it wasn't really my fault, I was under...a lot of – I wasn't there, where I should've been mentally. My dad was abusive...anyone in my situation would've broken at some point.”

His words are hollow and robotic. A mantra he's learned to say although he doesn't believe it.

You'd normally give someone the choice but this time you just slip you arms over his shoulders and pull him into a hug. There's no resistance from him either, if anything he leans into the embrace and grips onto your back. His trembling doesn't stop but it's softened by the pressure.

“You don't have to tell me anything Tobes. I don't want you to...not if it's this painful.”

“I want – want to tell you about Lyra.” his voice cracks in tandem with his neck as he says her name.

And he does tell you, against all your protests to take his time. He tells you everything laid out his whole life right in front of you. From being home schooled early on – isolated within his own home for years, to his older sister and her untimely accident that he's still clearly wracked with guilt about, and then the spiral that ended in patricide and a fire that ate his entire neighborhood.

By the end of his recounting he'd stopped trembling and letting out the occasional sniffle – and now the two of you were leaning on the hood of your car. Looking at the stars that just started coming out for the night, you occasionally whispered affirmations to Toby as he tells more stories from his childhood. The good ones this time.

His spirits aren't as high as they were when you'd started your evening but they're much better than they were two hours ago.

You chuckle as he finishes telling you about the time he and Lyra managed to sneak out of the house for a concert only to realize they had no way of getting back into the house when they returned. Their mom just opened the door letting them inside with a small crease in her brow but the smile that played at her lips told them everything they'd needed to know. They weren't in trouble, she'd sent them off to bed and in the morning asked how the show was. From the way Toby talked about his mom you can tell he really loves her. The feeling must've been mutual, if she sent them off to bed instead of dishing out a punishment all because Toby had smiled for the first time in weeks that night.

“Ah, favorite child Toby strikes again.” you joke.

This time Toby didn't say anything, you had been throwing small jokes in to help keep the mood light, but he just looked at you with his head tilted. A grim expression barely crossed his features before being replaced with a lopsided smile and warm but sad eyes.

“Y'kn – Kyra used to say that all the time.”

“Must be true then.”

He looks at his hands with the softest expression you've ever seen. It's an expression normally given to Connor, just sadder this time.

You nudge him getting his attention back to the present.

“You still want that slushie?”

He takes a moment to look around you and finally rests his gaze on the stars. “Not Franlin, not tonight.” he says focusing back on to you.

“Think we're two exits from Riverton if that helps. They have Wawas.”

“Wawas?” he chuckles.

You nod, “Yea they have smoothies and milkshakes.”

“Ooh la la.”

You both snort and head back into the car. It's surreal to be buckling back in, joking around with Toby when just hours prior you thought you'd be ending your friendship the moment you opened your mouth.

You can't help but ask, “Are we cool?”

“Yea...we're good. 's not like you fucking asked for the information.” he leans his head against the window and crosses his arms into himself.

“I'm still sorry about it though.”

“Know you are. But it's over now.” the finality of that statement takes the weight off of your shoulders. For the first time in days you can breathe again.

“Thanks for telling me everything...you didn't have to. But I appreciate you sharing it with me.”

His nails dig into his arms, or they would have if they weren't chopped down to the bit.

“I mrrow I-I didn't tell you everything...”

Nope this was over and done with, no more sad and scared Toby. You couldn't handle anymore, guilt had found a friend in discomfrot and the two had set out to eat you alive with every tremor that tore through Toby's body.

“What are you like a child murderer or something?” Giving a laugh to soften the joke.

….

You missed the way Toby tenses and sucks in a breath. His heart is beating wildly in his chest, so hard he's certain you hear it. Is that where you draw the line? Child murder. Of course you had to have some boundaries he couldn't just expect you to be cool with everything he's done. You were sure to figure it out sooner or later no thanks to your boss. But Toby couldn't loose you now. Not when you've been an anchor he hasn't had in such a long time. He feels almost human again when he's with you.

He's been quiet too long, at least he thinks he has. He needs to say something, joke around back and dismiss the notion. You can't know not now – maybe not ever.

“I'm trans!” he hadn't meant to blurt that out.

He stared at you with wide eyes. Why had he said that, that hadn't even crossed his mind. Just as he was about to laugh it off you reached over and lightly punched him in the arm. That small gesture sent a tickle down Toby's spine. It was such an innocent touch, but he was touched starved and knew it.

“I am too goof. Thanks for telling me but why the wait?”

Fuck now he had to think of something. Talking to you always made him so brain dead.

“Mrrow...mrr-you saw me as a man first...I wanted to keep it that way.” maybe he didn't have to make something up, just tell you the half truth.

Brian had questioned him when they got ready for the picnic why he hadn't worn his trans tie dye shirt and he's said he misplaced it. A bold lie to tell someone like Brian, especially since it'd been a gift from his mom. She had sent it in a care package last June. He'd never loose something his mom gave him, at least not so quickly. If he'd been being honest with himself at the time, he was worried about your reaction. Of course he knew you were trans too so not like you'd be one to be a transphobe, but he didn't want you to stop seeing him as a man and only see him as trans.

“Toby, you are a man. Nothing short of you telling me otherwise will change that for me.”

Toby isn't sure when you grabbed his hand but he's aware of your hold when you start to rub along his knuckles. He watches your thumb circle jis joints and pressing a bit into the divots as he takes another deep breath.

He gives his best smile, a lopsided uncomfortable looking thing, “I don't think I like when you call me Toby.”

#A cure for insomnia #Timothy Wright #timothy wright x reader #timothy wright x brian thomas #masky x reader #ticcitoby #ticci toby #ticci tobyx reader #ticci toby x reader #brian thomas x reader #Brian Thomas #masky #creepypasta fanfic

[ephemerlskies]

constant craving 04 (final) | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

⇢ genre: “drabble” series, best friends to lovers au, slight angst, FLUFF, bestfriend!au, unrequited love, smarter idiots but still idiots all the same

⇢ word count: 6.8k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol, excessive drinking (drink responsibly), pining, jungkook is an overdramatic baby, a surplus of feelings (i am disgusted with myself), one (1) fire hazard

⇢ summary: with the Friendiversary approaching quickly, both you and Jungkook have an array of trials to navigate through. and, as Seokjin gets caught in the crossfires, you must finally make a decision that will define how the rest of your life will unfold. 

♪ playlist: constant craving - k.d. lang, bad religion - frank ocean, misunderstood - lucky daye, neu roses - daniel caesar ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 (final)

a/n: wow.... so bitches really call this a drabble series then write a 6 thousand word finale... its me im bitches... anywho, i really love the way this played out!! jungkook had to hit the bottom to start rising to the top and it shows. also, the ending is like....... hehe well ill just let you all see for yourselves. enjoy my lovely readers! this wrapped up such a heartfelt series that is so dear to my heart. thank you all for the support for this! and i might whip up a few drabbles simply because i think this relationship is really cute hehe ok... happy reading! <3

part four: i love you too

Carrying that music box in his pocket felt like a well-deserved and all too grim reminder of what went down a few days ago. Sitting drunk yet again, though one would best describe Jungkook’s posture as more of a sloven pile of flesh and bones withering away on a bar stool, he searched for the wallet which was in one of his four pockets.

He reached for the wrong one. Instead of the faux leather skimming his skin, it was a solid wood corner pricking the pad of his index finger. It stung more than it should have. Perhaps he'd gotten a splinter, or the top layer of his skin was simply too raw from all the wear and tear of your fight. Jungkook wasn’t one to jump at such negligible shocks, but it sank him back into that night. It wasn't the wooden corner at all.

You loved him. You still love him.

That's what you said. That's what nearly put him on the floor instead of in his chair, and what had been preying on his mind as if he were no different than a helpless animal drowning his regrets in whiskey. And he knew he should have said it back. 

Jungkook theorized ways to defy the cruel restraints of time, and if the universe would be so kind as to allow him to travel back to that day in middle school when he happened upon a scared, flush-faced student running so fast and panicked that they bumped into each other, just to be the one who said 'I love you' first. Or those genies and shooting stars and blessed fountains that supposedly granted wishes; he would pay no hesitation to plead with whatever deity would listen and permit his most prioritized desire. 

The retrospective bargaining remained a ghost haunting just about every waking moment of his life. Though, he had not been quite sure if said ghost was some cosmic sent presence or simply his own guilt. If regret took on physical ramifications, then Jungkook would have been convinced that was why he felt as if his legs wouldn't have been able to carry him even if he tried.

If I could just go back to that night with the knowledge I know now, I would have hauled my ass to your house instead of that club and told you that my choice was made for me the moment I met you. Every other person I ended up with these past twelve years was simply a buffer for loving you. I had to prepare myself, because loving you was something entirely too tremendous for a boy still grappling with his own faulty speech pattern to assume.

I wish you knew that. I wish I didn’t stand there like an idiot and let you leave, thinking me some hero for finally letting this new guy Seokjin take the place I had always imagined being in. I wish I had just said that I love you.

I love you.

I love you, ___.

Jungkook’s vision resembled that of a smudged lens. However, there were no fingerprints on his eyes. The world had turned blurry and colorless, the latter he knew was not due to the sixth order of whiskey he let soak into his heart’s open wound. 

A life of color was one of the many things that left when you did.

He didn’t know it then, but Jungkook was being fervently dramatic since it had not been more than seventy-two hours the last time he spoke to you. Thought to him, it was akin to being just short of death and taking another breath would have been an expense he wasn’t sufficiently funded to pay. 

Whatever happened in the interim of him paying his tab and walking out onto the sidewalk must have landed somewhere in the blacked out stretches of his inebriated memory, since he was now staring at your contact gleaming on his phone bearing the semblance of one guardian angel.

It was so ingrained into his routine. Opening the app with the phone icon, clicking the ‘recent’ tab, and finding your name no further than three contacts down the list because he called you as if he had important things to tell you, though normally it was just to hear your voice or to tell you about what he had for lunch. And it nestled into his muscle memory as natural as it was for him to breathe or blink. Even when alcohol debilitated his driving, walking, and thinking, his body was drawn to seek a haven such as yourself. And he nearly pressed ‘call’.

Before the comfort of your voice could ring through to his phone, reality descended upon that reflex. Right now, you were probably with Seokjin, attending some pretentious art gallery for one of his colleagues.

It was just Jungkook and the night sky and the moon that he hoped you were gazing at too; it would be the only connection to you as of now. The moon, a parcel for the most longing gazes.

There are stories where the two protagonists get it right. This was not that story. That reality stung more than the residual burn of whiskey clinging along his throat.

Both you and Jungkook made every wrong decision possible. From the moment you subjected yourself to exploiting the veneer of being a ‘good friend’ to disguise any true feelings that might have taken light, to the moment Jungkook was presented with all the excruciatingly obvious signs that you were in love with him, but was simply too inept to notice, to the both of you neglecting any urge threatening the bounds of platonic. Any path that would have steered to a destination where you two would get that happy ending was conveniently untaken.

And you had a long journey riddled with heartbreak after heartbreak to prove it.

He traded his phone with that wooden music box, scuffing the soles of his shoe as he walked back home, hoping he’d be able to give the gift to you on your Friendiversary.

-----

Your pain was still raw. In this way, you had not considered, or rather avoided the idea of tending to such delicate wounds. The days leading up to the infamous anniversary had been spent hoping you would organically heal enough to allow the presence of Jungkook while denying another reopening in your wound.

You had been juggling a not so thrilling number of conflicts the three days preceding that self-acclaimed national holiday.

One, Seokjin and his bottomless supply of invitations that you felt too obligated to refuse. He had such a life packed with plans which is more than you could have said for Jungkook. He, most likely, busied himself with promoting ranks in some obscenely violent video game. Two, a mutual friend of yours had told you Seokjin was fixing to make your relationship official this coming Friday, and you didn’t want to admit the lackluster reaction upon hearing the news was equivalent to receiving a C on a test. It wasn't the worst grade to receive, but you knew there would always be something better than adequacy. Not satisfying enough nor disappointing enough to be dealt with without bending a few expectations. And three, all you really wanted, the only agent of excitability (both good and bad) that diluted the festering numbness in your heart just a tad more, was thinking about seeing Jungkook on your Friendiversary.

But with that excitement, was its equally worrying constituent: whether or not you would be able see Jungkook that day without cracking under pressure.

Things weren’t exactly attuned between the two of you. Your emotional stature had never been more unsynchronized and offkey with Jungkook’s, so, forcing a celebratory movie or dinner would be no different than adding cornstarch to the already thick tension.

“___? Are you listening?” Everything Seokjin had just been droning on about filtered in and out without a single word being absorbed, and you could have pretended this wasn't the case but  stress had apprehended caring enough to lie.

“Sorry… No, I wasn't. I’m just stressed is all.” Since that was only a half lie, self-admonition had not yet taken permanent residency whenever you would look at Seokjin’s eyes offering nothing but genuine tact.

“Oh, sorry to hear! Are you okay? Anything you wanna talk about?” That, and the soft press of his hand over yours had swallowed you into a perpetual, guilty cycle of comparing two incomparable people.

Seokjin was always like this. Serving a gentle smile and honest ears as a vessel of calmness during whatever calamity you were grappling. It was safe knowing if you fell, you’d have a comfortable cushion to soften the impact. He was mindful with his words and had the intelligence to articulate them with impressive eloquence. You were more likely to see pigs fly than to see him stutter. He had a diverse group of friends and walked a steady path to a financially secure life. And you started to wonder what else one would need in a partner? Any sensible person would do much more than you had to snag someone like Seokjin, as handsome as he was kind and respectful. He seemed to have everything Jungkook lacked, including mutual feelings for you.

It would have been entirely too easy to pick him, as if there was a ‘Seokjin’ button and a ‘Jungkook’ button and you could press Seokjin’s on a whim. If choosing him would have meant miraculous nullification of all your very real and very unremitting feelings for that idiot you called your best friend, then you would have done it in a heartbeat.

There wasn't a 'Seokjin' button or a 'Jungkook' button, nor was there a button that would wondrously redistribute your feelings towards Seokjin.

And then there was Jungkook. Always in the back of your mind when he wasn't tenanting the focus of it.

He was never predictable in the ways that mattered. It was just as difficult figuring out his next move as figuring out whether this trait was exciting or exhausting.

Though, this had not been to say you didn’t know him well; in fact, all his habits and preferences and pet peeves could be bound into a book, written by you, and it would be so accurate anyone who read it would think it was an autobiography. He knew you to the same caliber. Where Seokjin would ask what was wrong, Jungkook wouldn’t need to. He already learned your behavior to know to say something along the lines of ‘tell me what’s wrong when you're ready, we can watch your favorite movie or swing by that Chinese place with those great fried dumplings in the meantime’. And on more favorable occasions, he'd say nothing and simply wrap you in his arms and let his shirt become a delta for your tears.

To anyone else, that might sound entirely too frank and perhaps a bit dismissive to be comforting, but to you it was the exact cure for each affliction. To never need explanations that would validate your feelings because Jungkook saw to that right when he took notice; to never manufacture fake smiles through failed attempts at cheering you up since, of course, he knew exactly what to do to vegetate joy in your heart and earn a smile from years and years —and years— of practice. It had almost driven you mad, thinking about how he knew from a shift in your brow what you were feeling and yet, somehow, never realized how deeply in love you were.

All the while, the moment you were convinced you had been versed fluently in his every move, he would pawn another blindsight that would leave you breathless and amazed all the same. Jungkook always had concealed tricks up his sleeve, and life was anything but repetitive with him. You would more often than not find yourself struggling to relearn language and existing itself just to keep up with him. How exactly he managed to wield such diametric facets of being was an enigma beyond the reasoning of this universe.To feel like home, somewhere you belonged outside of your own body, and a daring voyage into a completely new world all at once must have meant he was some sort of Godsend. Only angels could have sculpted a soul so magnetizing, you assumed.

Seokjin was an umbrella, shielding you on some arcane journey under an unforgiving rainfall. Your shoes kept dry and your hair intact.

And if he was the umbrella, then Jungkook was the rain. Falling everywhere and all at once, so that you couldn't help but let yourself be saturated in his entire, vibrant being. And who’s to say letting such a water fall against your skin was a bad thing? Sometimes rain is cleaning, gentle even. They bear fruits as beautiful as rainbows that guide you to an unnamed treasure.

Your treasure, however, had a name.

Jungkook calling.

"___? Hello? You in there?" Seokjin waved his hand in front of your face mostly in a jesting manner, but part of him felt like your eyes were blinded by something held in your heart. If he hadn’t pulled you back into reality, you might have been lost forever.

“I'm just…” Your attention had abandoned this conversation the second his name gave light to your screen. “Sorry, um…”

“It's okay, you can take the call. I’ll be in the kitchen making us some coffee.”

If you were to thank him profusely, it would have been far too obvious how much you missed seeing his name among your notifications, and most likely expose how often you spent thinking of Jungkook while you were supposed to be enthralled with Seokjin. So, you just nodded and answered the phone.

Nodding and answering, as though that didn't feel like taking a breath of clean air after hours of swimming through muddied waters.

“Hello? ___?”

“Jungkook.” It took you longer than usual to form a response and what was assembled had been a half-baked utterance just to let him know you were on the other side of the phone, hearing his voice and feeling a surge of energy course through your veins like he was some delicious narcotic filling life into you after only a week without him.

“___.” Jungkook was in his own debt of words as well. The exchange halted for a few seconds, a jaded breathing cutting the cracked static.

“Look-”

“Hey so-”

Any hope that you had finally caught up to the same page as Jungkook was lost. Now, it seemed you two were reading entirely different books.

“You go.” You said after another dreadful pause. He was the one who called, so he should be the one carrying the burden of navigating through this deafening tension.

“Well, I- uh… I… Well, you see I was just, um, wondering…” Jungkook’s heart must have shut off. That would explain why even the most rudimentary of words felt closer to a foreign language. Or, why he was making conscious efforts to counteract the threat of his nearly dormant lisp.

His brain was drained dry of any blood, his inner mechanisms were shutting down. Even without the alcoholic filter catching words and common sense in its web, Jungkook felt himself fall into an overactive state of dumbfoundedness. Sobriety only a cataract for his emotional override. 

“Our friendiversary?”

“I’m sorry, I did not understand literally anything you just said.”

“Me neither.”

The charming and familiar laugh that spilled through the speaker reminded you that Jungkook was in fact a real person. Not some figmented embodiment of every lost and unrequited and tortuous feeling you had been suppressing for twelve years. Jungkook was real, his laugh and everything else you loved about him were all so incredibly real. And more importantly, the pure joy you felt was real; a permanent serialization of his. Your smiles and his smiles had always surfaced in tandem.

Now, you both were laughing. Neither were warranted by his messy attempt at forming a coherent sentence. The weight of discomfort shedding from your shoulders had been partnered with a slew of relieved chuckles.

“Anyway, um. I- I still wanna see you on our Friendiversary. Or, at least give you your gift.” Admitting that was terrifying but the thought of breaking the consecutive streak of eleven years simply because he was too much of a coward to admit he wanted to see you dizzied him. However, the thought of spending your friendiversary alone terrified him beyond comprehension. So, he thought not about that as a possibility; he carved an opening to his heart in hope you wouldn’t send sharp thorns of rejection into it.

“Yeah, I, uh. I still wanna see you too. I mean, it is a national holiday. We gotta have holiday spirit, right?” You were forcing playful banter, it felt like lemon juice scouring cuts on your tongue, but you were so desperate to make things between you two feel normal.

“You’re right! So, um… You can come over tomorrow night. I’ll set up a surprise or whatever.” He seemed to have fallen back into stride with pre-confession Jungkook. Trying to keep up with him now would just exhaust you of all your means, so you chose to save the rest for tomorrow night. Even if that meant watching him walk away to some unforeseeable finish line; his back, the last part of him you’d see until you could finally collect your broken pieces and start walking as well.

“Sounds good! I’ll, um, see you then.”

“See you, ___.”

You had no idea, and how could you, that Jungkook was now wiping small clusters of wetness from the bed of his eyelids. Why he thought you, the one person that remained a constant in his life, would say no to him over one fight (of many) made for quite the spill of tears. But if you did know, you would have told him you felt like crying too.

"Hey! How did everything go?" You were so immersed in your virtual conversation with Jungkook you nearly forgot the person you were presently with. The train of guilt wouldn't stop for your pathetic attempts at disembarking.

"Oh! Thanks for the coffee." You sipped, and it had just been a stall to blink away the tears that were straying beyond your will of concealment. "It went good. We're still celebrating our Friendiversary."

"Friendiversary?" Seokjin's light chuckle veiled his tense concern.

"Yeah... Uh, it's just this thing we do to celebrate our friendship. The day we met."

"Oh... that's..." His eyes were scaling the rim of his mug.

"That's what, Seokjin?" You were stern, knowing well enough it was born of far more than platonic defensiveness. And you had no right to be the one prosecuting him since you clearly had more to hide than meets the eye.

"I mean, it's just interesting how dedicated you are to an anniversary with a friend." Seokjin wielded that soft-spoken voice which made it difficult to be anything but patient with him. And from the tone of it, he seemed to have no ill intentions with that statement, though it had not been an entirely innocent observation. To you, however, it felt like he might as well have set you on fire.

"Interesting? What is that supposed to even mean? I mean, we've been friends for twelve years. I- I don't know why people are always so judgmental." Your arms crossed over your chest, hoping he would take notice how much his comment slighted you. If asked, you would have insisted you would have been this worked up over any of your friends. Though you knew well enough this was untrue, and it made you feel even worse acting as though Seokjin was the one at fault here.

"I'm sorry. I'm not judging you, really. I just... I just have never heard of two friends doing something like that so religiously."

You sighed out all your anger, knowing the way you snapped at him was merely misdirected frustration. "No, I'm sorry. I know it's kinda weird."

"Look, I get it. You guys are close. But, ___, you talk about him so much that half, no, over half of your stories include him. We've been dating for, what, barely a week now, and I know more about this Jungkook guy than I know about you, and I haven't even met him."

Lips parted, ready to dispatch another slew of defenses to refute all the things he said. It was more disappointing than it was shocking to find nothing but a long sigh emerging. Because he was right. Jungkook has been interwoven so thoroughly in your last twelve years that if you only told the stories without him in it, then it would be the least accurate and nondescript retelling of your life. Fragments of an unfinished novel. It would miss the most crucial pieces, entire chapters, of your story.

You would have been presenting a shell of you, hollow and one dimensional. All the inner parts of you, the lungs and veins and tissue that gave you life and made you whole belonged solely with Jungkook.

That's why you sat there, blank faced, foolishly waiting for the words that wouldn't come to your aid because you had no place to contend with him.

"Seokjin... I'm with you..." It's all that would come up your throat, and it felt like acid. You were sure it burned his ears when he heard them more than it had your throat.

It hadn’t even been partially true. Physically you were with him, but in your head you were sitting on your couch with Jungkook, consuming a concerning amount of junk food while chatting through a movie used more as background noise than entertainment.

"Okay. Does that mean you don't have feelings for him?"

"Well..."

"Can you confidently say you could replace all the time you spend with him with time you would spend with me?" Seokjin must have noticed your returning tears because he loosened his verbal grip from your throat. To you, it sounded like he was pacifying you for some horrible sin, to anyone else it sounded as though he was simply trying to dredge up feelings that would disrupt the chance of a relationship between you and him. "___, I like you. I really do, but in all honesty, I'm looking for something serious. I think we would be great together, but only if you don't have any feelings left for him."

"Seokjin..." You regretted looking at him.

Sweetness was strewn in his eyes and gentle smile. Seokjin was softer than cotton, which made the real threat, the rough sandpaper wearing away skin and bones, you. It made it all the more painful to know you had been keeping everything you felt for Jungkook hidden from Seokjin. Though, if one would have presented an objective point of view, your feelings were far from secretive. And the most brutal honesty was that you knew feelings for Seokjin were never in your attainability. Not the way they always had been for Jungkook.

He was the wrong person who crossed paths with you at the right moment. A mere convenience. And you knew he deserved much more than what you had to offer.

"And maybe I'm being an idiot, but I like you too much to give you some ultimatum which would put you in such an unfair position. So, I'll let you think this over." His compassion felt more like a sharp blow to your chest. “No pressure.”

If he hadn’t smiled like he did, then you would have broken up with him right then and there. It was not possible to rip away such tender hope away from a smile so sweet.

"I'm sorry." You meant the remorse behind those words and it still hadn’t amounted to a proper consolation. "I'm sorry. I guess... I guess I'll go... Seokjin?”

“Yes?” He replied quickly, and you knew only a pace that rapid was one brought on by a sliver of faith that you might have made your decision right then.

“You’re a really great person. You deserve the world.”

Unfortunately, you couldn’t give him what he wanted. And as bitter and unkind as that might have felt at the moment, it was the only bit of truth and relent you could have offered him.

-----

In your bed, sleep became somewhat of an abstract desire. You knew your rest was deprived from you when the digital clock on your bedside told you it was six hours past the time you'd normally fall asleep. It was because you really did have a choice to make now.

To choose Seokjin, and know you'd collapse in the safety of his reciprocated affection, though haunted by how you would never feel the fullest extent of content. And you would live with that until resentment and distance wedged irreversible damage in your relationship.

Or, to choose Jungkook, which would catapult you into a depth so dark and tenuous that you would have no idea whether you'd meet gentle snow or hard, deadly concrete when you landed. And maybe you'd never land at all; maybe you would be caught in a state of falling down and down forever, until your beating heart eventually stilled.

Which one was worth it? Which were you willing to risk? These were the questions that kept you awake.

The hours leading to your undisclosed celebration events with Jungkook ceased being actual points of your existence and merely obstructions that you had to plow through in order to arrive at some conclusive moment. Something that might give you an answer to all your questions. Something that might have released you from devotedly checking your phone for a Jungkook patented text or call.

You were turning into a half-being. Someone who could only inhale a full breath, laugh an intentional laugh, and sleep a soundless sleep when their other half was there.

If you thought being in love with Jungkook for your entire friendship was pathetic, then you couldn’t fathom what you had become now.

Standing in front of his door, the same one you lugged him to that night he was too drunk to balance on his feet, when you willingly carried all the weight he couldn’t, when your lips became acquainted and comfortable with his within half a beat, you felt as if this chunk of wood was mocking you. A partition barricading you from Jungkook. Your Jungkook. The man you always felt you were on the outskirts of, with only a window to peer into his unreadable mind. And that was enough for you ―until now.

Now you were going to knock on that door with your hand, make him open it for you, and walk into his home. You would be the one to step foot inside of the very structure that only solicited closed doors and immovable walls and fogged windows. And you would leave behind your timidity, every feeling and urge that left you with disappointing compromises for the sake of maintaining this friendship.

You would be selfish, and he would finally feel a mere glimpse of what you have always felt for the best and worst of your life.

Even when he opened the door, arming a smile that actively disarmed you, this home of his was yours to conquer. This was your time to act for you alone, despite how many smiles he sent your way. You had not any weapons or shields or an infantry for a clutch. You just had your heart and all the love it carried. 

“Hey! ___, you look… You look great.” There was no real incentive for him to censor how he truly thought you looked. Immeasurably beautiful. It was simply his own nerves impeding on the feelings that were too intense to express without it being followed by an entire soliloquy of I love you’s.

“Thanks... You too...” You could almost feel the words brimming in your and Jungkook’s mouth, carrying such raw emotions and longing intentions.

"I'm really glad that- Jungkook..." Walking into his house punctuated what you were about to say.

His living room was strewn with enough candles to steal the last of your words and to consider his house a fire hazard. That didn't negate this lovely sea of lights to be anything but romantic and thoughtful. A bit cluttered, and not at all perfect, but it must have taken Jungkook hours to set up every wax column. The thoughtfulness of this gesture would have astonished you had it not been for the consistency of Jungkook snatching your breath and words away whenever he tried. It was antithetical, the way you expected his surprises. Yet, always surprised all the same.

Unpredictable, completely surrounding you just like the rain.

"I had to turn off my fire detector but... Worth it." Jungkook considered the number of mishaps that could have dampened any chance of this being romantic.

A candle could tip over and set his entire place ablaze, the wax could leak onto his carpet and tabletops, damaging his furniture and savings for replacements, you and he could have suffocated from all the fumes steaming from the wick. But if that look on your face didn't feel like the only bit of revival to keep his heart's steady beating, if your eyes didn’t look as though it was the only set of eyes that shed beauty into this world then he wouldn't have used up exactly three lighters to pull this stunt. But it did, and he felt warmth and color return to every inch of his body.

He would have used hundreds of lighters to ignite thousands of candles if that meant an ounce of happiness from you. He wanted to say that, but he knew the candles said it for him.

The spectacle almost made you forget why you were here in the first place. It almost made you forget the resolve you managed to gather before entering. And then he said your name.

"___."

The letters flowing from his lips as if they could only be pronounced by his tongue. It sounded so good. So good, that if anyone else were to say it then it wouldn't have been your name at all. It would have sounded wrong, sullied. And it wasn't supplied by neat articulation, this new belonging of your name in his mouth. The need for him to sculpt your name into this world was more than that. "I will never forgive myself if I don't get this out while I still can."

"Jungkook, what is all this?" You didn't know why you felt a collection of tears brimming along your eyes, but you didn't care to figure it out. Perhaps you felt an influx of feelings, an abundance too heavy for your body to seal within the confines of your emotional seams, so they overflowed in the form of tears. This certainly had not been the first time you cried over Jungkook, but you had never cried over him like this.

"___, I love you!" Jungkook said loudly. It was just you and him who could hear, but it felt as though he wanted the entire world to know.

"What? I- You- What?" Your lack of verbal poise was indicative of your love for him once again taking the reins of your mind and heart. Words were a luxury you couldn't afford as of now. You just had to feel everything you were feeling until the rainstorm settled. The hope that he would spare you some remnants of fluency was far along, and you weren't too sure if what Jungkook was about to say would be gentle enough to leave you with any words at all.

"I love you. I don't know why I didn't know it sooner. Or maybe, I- Maybe I did know?" Jungkook sighed at his own ineloquence. "I'm stupid! That's it. That's my only excuse. I'm so stupid. The way I felt about you, the way I still feel about you, is something I thought all best friends had. I thought everyone felt like the moments they weren't spending with their best friends just felt like filler moments. Like, every day I spent without you was just a span of time I had to wait out until I see you again. Like every damn moment of my life is spent waiting for you. And if I don't end up with you then... then I'll never stop waiting."

"Jungkook, I-" He prevailed in surprising you, taking words and breath and thoughts all at once.

"And, I'm that stupid! I really thought all best friends had those moments when they stare at you, and- and-" Now, you weren't the only one with wet eyes and cheeks. "And I just feel like looking at you and being with you just makes me better. It makes me a better person, or something, and it makes me feel like... Like I'll never get hurt again. And even if I do get hurt, I know it's you I want to be there. I know that whenever something bad happens to you, or when you feel like crying or when you're happy or angry or anything that I want to be the one who gets to be by your side. When I look at you, all I want is to love you. To love all your pain away."

"You really mean that?"

"Yes! God, I love you." You didn't notice how it happened, but Jungkook's arms became a shield around you. Inside his arms you were indestructible. Your hands pressed against his cheeks, memorizing the plush, smooth skin. The world could hurl all the fire and ice it had, but it wouldn’t matter. "___, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I'm sorry that in that period, I hurt you. Please, forgive me. I love you, and I want to be with you."

"Of course, I forgive you. I... I can't believe this." Hearing everything you always wanted from him was drastically different when it was actually unfolding. It was a million times more than any hope or dream you used as a salve for your longing. It was everything.

"Maybe it took so long because I was afraid. Because the idea of loving you was something I wasn't ready for. Even though I did love you, God, who was I to take on something as fragile and crucial as loving you. I know I probably would have messed it up. And, fuck, maybe I'm messing it up right now. But I just needed it to be perfect. I needed loving you to be perfect because I don't want to give you anything less than that."

"You were always enough for me, Jungkook. More than enough. You were and are everything to me" His arms that pressed you further into him expressed how happy that made him. 

"But I'm not perfect yet. I might mess up... A lot. No, I'll definitely mess up. I don't know if I can offer you perfect yet. But I do know that through everything I have never stopped loving you and I will never stop loving you."

"Jungkook... I don't know what to say." Your thumb grazed a falling tear from his face. Jungkook had not cried often in front of you; and you could tally up the amount of times he had on your fingers alone. But when he did, it was still as beautiful as when he was smiling or laughing or even scowling.

"You could say you love me back." You did. You loved him, his smile that was currently on a mission to melt your heart, his arms that carried both the good and bad parts of you, his wit that you always relished in. All the reasons to love him were an endless flowing river. If you were lucky enough, you would catch a glimpse of each beautiful current and be able to give name to the gravity that pulled you into him.

"I love you too, you idiot." The last word caught in your throat because your lips were being kissed instead.

His lips. Warm and exciting, allotting your being with an infinite devotion of his. And it was more than you could have ever hoped for.

It felt like fire. Like a grove of candles encapsulating the origin of heat. You and Jungkook, holding each other so close, you could have become one. Hot and all-consuming of anything in its path. If one stood too close, they would suffer scorching embers that stray from the orange pyres. Seokjin, Irene, and any other unassuming casualty that had the misfortune of stepping between the two of you, harboring the burn scars to remind them of what fumed from their interference.

Every element concocting between you and him was that of a bright flame, cremating pure metals and wet woods and thick forests alike.

You were in his home. His arms and lips and hands told you it was your home as well. All that time spent wondering why you could never slip inside before was never because he didn't want to let you in. And the thing is, you never thought to knock until now. You sat outside in a silenced hope that he would voluntarily open that door for you. But unknown to you, Jungkook seemed to be waiting as well. Waiting in a large room with empty spaces where you belonged and where he kept reserved for your residence alone.

He waited even when he wasn't quite sure of who he was waiting for, or if you would ever actually spill your warmth into his home. He waited until his fingers turned to ice and his eyes fell to exhaustion, for you to walk inside.

"So, you're like my boyfriend now?" Your voice brushed against his smiling lips.

"Yeah, your boyfriend, or whatever."

"You know this means you have to top next year's friendiversary. And I mean, all these candles? That's gonna be tough." It could have counted as sensory overload, the feeling of his palms flush against your back, the tip of his nose grazing yours, the bright array of candles illuminating the room. But you were so, incredibly cold without him that this felt like solace to you.

"When have I ever disappointed you?" Jungkook regretted what came out of his mouth too late to stop himself from saying it.

"Oh, I couldn't count the amount of times on my fingers alone! What about that time you forgot our chains for the tires on our trip to the mountains? We almost died." His eye roll only encouraged you to continue. Maybe, if you were lucky, he'd equip that cute pout whenever he wanted his way. "Or what about when you swore you brought water, but three miles in on our hike you had that look on your face. You know I reminded you to get water and you swore you did. Or what about-"

"Okay! I get it! I fuck up, jeez." He scrunched his nose, his eyes waning into crescents courtesy of that grin of his. You counted the number of wrinkles along the bridge of his nose as you always did, though you had acquired an expertise in the geography of his face. Each line and angle and ridge were now and eternally yours to restudy and marvel. "Hey, uh, almost forgot."

He reached into his front left pocket. "I, um, kept carrying it around thinking I'd see you somewhere. Kinda dumb right?"

"Not dumb." You opened the tiny box, wound the handle until the spring felt tight and you could see the throngs prick the textured wheel, and it was one of those moments where you didn't see a gift in your hand. You simply saw his thought and sentiment manifested as a box of wood that sung a tune.

All the things Jungkook wanted to give you, the sun and the moon and the entire universe were not his to give. So for now, he settled for this music box and there would be a day when he would collect each celestial being and place them right into your hands. Maybe then, he would feel less of a debt for possessing such a love like yours.

"This is... I love it. Thank you, Jungkook." You smiled, but it was motivated in the hopes he would smile back. You thought he deserved that much, at least. And he did.

"Sooooo... Can I tell Seokjin that you're actually in love with me and that he sucks ba-"

"Um, absolutely not!" As always, his crudeness and slight inability to remain mature for too long only wedged you deeper in love.

So, terribly in love. Your state of constant craving for Jeon Jungkook had been left barren. That desolate, solitary province was no longer yours to take residence in.

You had a home now. And you had no need to crave Jungkook anymore. He was right here, holding you.

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

a/n: okay, cry with me.... these two.... such hopeless saps for each other i'm here for it. final destination is simp city... also (spoiler) it is completely canon that irene and seokjin bond over their mutual heartbreaks and get to smitten hehehe. anyway, my loves i hope you enjoyed this finale as much as i enjoyed writing it!!! it was a short but heartfelt journey with these two and i will miss their idiocy sm. thank u for your endless support i love u all!!! <3

#bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv #btsgoldnet #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts writing #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook bestfriend!au #jungkook angst #bts series #jungkook bestfriendstolovers!au #jungkook series #constant craving #rubycoast

[kbuggg3]

~U m b r e l l a       A c a d e m y~ FivexReader: “Stakeout” (Part 1)

IMAGINE: After discovering the apocalypse and getting transported back into the present, Five and (y/n) make it their mission to stop the doomsday clock and save not only their family, but the entirety of the world as they know it.

No ever thought anything like this would ever happen. Everyone assumed the other was content with the lives they were forced to live. Well, everyone except Five. He was very secretive or quiet with his hate for this lifestyle. It started off as a regular day in the Hargreeves residence.

Mother had just finished making breakfast as she rang the bell and all 8 of us raced down the stairs to see who could try and get to their assigned seat first. Of course we couldn’t sit down yet- we had to wait until our father sat down. He would then nod his head, giving us the green light.

Things were going as good as anything can get there. Breakfast was good. The usually smell of eggs and bacon was almost comforting. Until Five decided enough was enough. He slammed his knife into the table, causing the bottom of it to stick straight up.

All of our eyes went wide. Well, everyone’s except mine. I just slouched back in my chair and rolled my eyes. Even 15 year old me was fed up with Five’s shenanigans.

Me and Five were very close. Closer with each other than we were with anyone else in the family. Me, being Number 8, always got picked on for being the last number. But Five would always tell me I had the coolest powers to cheer me up. I had telekinetic powers.

There was this “unspoken thing” between me and Five as Klaus would call it- We were also pretty close with him.

Me and Five liked each other, as more than friends of course. But it was forbidden. It was our fathers rule to “keep it professional” even though we were only kids. That’s one reason why Allison and Luther’s relationship never went anywhere.

The other reason being they were both too shy to admit their feelings. Whereas Five, a person with no filter whatsoever, used to tell me all the time. He told me everything and anything. Five used to slip notes under my door, telling me to meet him after hours.

When everyone was asleep I would open his door to find him waiting for me on his bed, wearing a plain white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, just like the rest of us (Father picked those outfits out as well).

We would lay on our backs side by side on his decent sized mattress and talk about anything that came to mind. Sometimes he would say to me, “I wish we could be together,” as if telling someone you liked them was as simple as telling someone about their day.

But that’s what I liked about him. He was open. Honest. Because we told each other everything, he would always rant to me about how father won’t let him time travel.

So I knew the moment he stood in front of the upright knife with his fist clenched, he was angry about just that.

“Number Five?”

“I have a question.”

Father continued to eat his breakfast as if this were a normal, everyday thing. But it wasn’t. “Knowledge is an admirable goal, but you know the rules. No talking during mealtimes. You are interrupting Herr Carlson.” Five rolled his eyes and responded sternly, “I want to time travel.”

“No.”

“But I’m ready! I’ve been practicing my spatial jumps, just like you said!” Five then proceeded to teleport from his seat, over to the right side of fathers chair. “See?”

Father sighed and took the fork of eggs away from his mouth as he began to lecture Five. “A spatial jump is trivial when compared with the unknowns of time travel. One is like sliding along the ice, the other is akin to descending blindly into the depths of the freezing water and reappearing as an acorn.”

“Well I don’t get it.”

“Hence the reason you're not ready.” Father stated as he took a sip of his grape wine.

Five looked over to me, his angered look immediately going soft. I shook my head, trying to tell him not to go any further. He looked like he was actually considering it, but the moment he looked away, all considerations faded.

“I’m not afraid.”

“Fear isn’t the issue. The effects it might have on your body, even on your mind, are far too unpredictable.” Father then threw his utensils onto his plate making them clatter loudly and he faced Five and yelled, “Now I forbid you to talk about this anymore!”

Five gave me one last look, almost like he was apologizing for something, and then ran off, causing all heads to turn.

“Number Five! You haven’t been excused!”

Of course Five didn’t listen. Why would he listen to our so-called father who didn’t even bother to give us real names, only numbers? But maybe he’ll listen to me. Without thinking, or waiting for consent, I got up from my seat and ran after him.

“Number 8!”

After yelling his name over and over again, Five finally turned around, his cheeks red with anger. “Five, where are you going?”

“Away.”

“What do you mean ‘away’? You're just gonna leave everything?” Five didn’t answer.

“You-“ I began to try and speak again but my voice was breaking. I can’t let him see me like this. I cleared my throat and tried again. “You’re just going to leave me?”

Five’s eyes moved from his untied shoelace to my eyes. His gaze softened again and he slowly reached out for my hand.

“I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve this.”

And then it happened. It’s kind of all a blur really. All I remember is him letting go of my hand and the blue light surrounding him.

I desperately reached out to grab his hand but all I could touch was the sleeve of his uniform. And before I knew it, I had time traveled into the future with him. Every building was crumbled and in ruins.

There were occasional fires here and there. After finding all of our family dead, the only evidence we found was an eye that Luther's dead corpse was holding in his hand. We spent 30 years together in that shithole.

At first it was hell. He was mad at me for being there because it “wasn’t safe” and “I should be at home”. I was just trying to stop him from making decisions that he insisted WEREN’T stupid. Look where that got us.

Eventually we met Dolores. She’s the only friend me and Five ever had. Especially when you grow up as a “baby superhero” as Diego would call us. We never went to school, birthday parties, play dates.

We lived a life that was far from normal, so we were very thankful for Dolores. Eventually me and Five made up, started dating even.

43 years later, Five then made an equation to help us time travel back home and even after Dolores told him a million times that his equation was inaccurate he still used it anyway, causing me and him to go back to recent times.... but in our 15 year old bodies.

After reuniting with our family and almost getting murdered by some of Five’s old co-workers, we are now trying to figure out who the eye belongs to so we can try to stop the apocalypse from destroying our world and everyone in it.

—————————————————————

“I knew this was a waste of time. I mean what did I expect her to do? Help us?” (y/n) and Five walked away from Vanya’s apartment complex.

They had tried telling her about the apocalypse and where the couple had been for the past 16 years, thinking she was the only one they could trust, but it was too much information for her to handle. She didn’t even know how to respond to them.

“Well, Five, how did you expect her to respond? Did you think she was going to understand everything immediately? We’ve been gone for the past, what, 16 years? For them at least. For us it was 43.”

“I understand that, but you’d think she would have something to say or questions at least!” (y/n) nodded in agreement. “Let’s just go to the laboratory and find out who this eye belongs to.”

Five nodded as well and grabbed her hand. He then teleported them to the front steps of the laboratory. (y/n) let go of his hand and began to walk up the steps, but he pulled her back and wrapped his hand around hers as he tried to keep his eyes forward and act normal.

Even though every touch, although some small, makes his heart beat 10 times faster and the heat to rise to his cheeks. (y/n) just giggled and kissed his cheek, that soon began to turn a slight shade of pink.

They walked through the doors, hand in hand, with hopeful smiles on their faces.

—————————————————————

“What. An. Idiot.” Five said angrily as he stomped down the steps. (y/n) and Five had attempted to ask the guy for the name of the owner of the eye, but he insisted that he could not give out that information. And when the man looked me up and down, Five got a little violent and they called security.

“Well maybe if you hadn't threatened to ram the guy's head into the wall, we probably would’ve actually gotten somewhere.” (y/n) stayed as she sat on the steps and watched as Five paced back and forth, attempting to think of another plan.

“Wha- i- He was looking at you in a way that no older man should be looking at a 15 year old!” Five shouted pointing toward the doors to the lab. He then sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose instead. “Alright. Fine.

Let’s just... go with plan B.”

“Which is....?”

—————————————————————

“You want me to do what?”

“Klaus, please! This is important!” (y/n) said, folding her hands like she’s begging.

“So you want me... to go to this laboratory.... and pretend to be your dad so you can, what, find the name of the person who owns an eyeball that you found in the future?”

Five and (y/n) shared a look and shrugged. “Yes...?” After a moment of silence Klaus finally spoke up. “I’m too sober for this. I am NOT going to do this.”

—————————————————————

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Klaus said frustratedly as he, Five, and (y/n) walked down the familiar hallways of the laboratory. “You’ll do anything that involves you getting paid, won’t you?” Five snapped. “Hey 20 bucks is a great deal don’t you think?” Klaus turned to (y/n) and she shrugged then nodded her head.

They eventually made it to Mr. Big’s office, which was the same guy Five threatened. “I’m sorry but without the client’s consent, I simply can’t help you.” Five stood up and angrily responded, “Well we can’t get consent if you don’t give us a name.”

“Well that’s not my problem. Sorry now there’s really nothing I can do, so-“ Before the guy could finish, Klaus interrupted. “And what about my consent?”

“Excuse me?” My. Big’s replied confused. “Who gave you permission... to lay your hands... on my children?” He began to fake cry as me and Five looked at each other, and then at Klaus with a confused look. “Wha- I’m sorry?”

“You heard me.”

“I didn’t touch your children!”

“Oh really? Then how did my son get that swollen lip then?” Klaus stands up and faces Five. “He doesn’t have a swollen-“ Klaus brings his arm back and punches Five hard in the mouth. (y/n) gasps, but doesn’t move from her seat, trying her best to play along with whatever it was Klaus was doing.

Five touched his hand to his mouth, looking at the blood on it. He looked like he was going to kill Klaus right then and there. “And as for my daughter!” Klaus began to look at me with his arm pulled back, ready to hit, but before it reached her face (y/n) grabbed his fist and yanked it forward so his face was close to hers and she whispered, “Touch me, and I’ll kick your *ss.” Klaus just smiled and backed away.

“What about your daughter?” Klaus looked at me with a smirk and I began to fake cry. “H-He touched me! He tried to rape me!” Five smirked as well as he wrapped an arm around my waist and Klaus laughed with joy.

“You guys are crazy.”

“You have no idea.” (y/n) replied chuckling slightly. Everyone watched as Klaus picked up a snow globe that was sitting on the man's desk and he read it. “‘Peace on earth.’ That's so sweet.” He then smashed it onto his head causing it to shatter and his head to bleed. I jumped slightly at the noise and Five’s grip on my waist tightened as if to reassure me it’s ok.

“God that hurt.” Klaus groaned. When the guy reached for the phone on his desk and typed in a number, most likely security again, Klaus took it out of his hands and held it up to his ear. “There’s been an assault...” he “cried”, “in Mr. Bigs office and we need security, now. Schnell!” He yelled then threw the phone down and shook his head to try and make the blurry vision go away.

“Now here’s what’s gonna happen Grant.”

“I-It’s Lance... actually.”

“In about 60 seconds, two security guards are gonna burst through that door, and they’re gonna see a whole lot of blood and a distraught little girl, and they’re gonna wonder ‘What the hell happened?’” Five looked me up and down, smirked, then looked over to the man. “And we’re gonna tell them that you... beat the shit out of us and RAPED our little girl!” Klaus continued to fake cry but it turned into a laugh when he saw the man's terrified expression.

“You're gonna do great in prison, Grant. Trust me, I’ve been there.” Lance just gave him a weird look but Klaus continued. “Little piece of chicken like you. Oh my god you're gonna get passed around like a......” he tried to think of something to say but couldn’t do he just brushed it off.

“You’re just- you're gonna do great. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Jesus, you’re a real sick bastard.” Lance replies.

Klaus’ face went stone cold as he responded, “Thank you.” And spit a piece of glass from his mouth. (y/n) walks over to his desk and leans down close to his face, to where her slightly unbuttoned uniform shows her cleavage. She reaches her hand past him, resting her arm on his shoulder, as she tries to reach the small drawer behind him to get a lollipop.

She can hear his unsteady breathing which makes her want to throw up, because he’s actually somewhat liking this 15 year old girl seducing him, but also smirk because her plan is working.

Her fingers finally wrap around a lollipop and she whispers with a smile, “It’s a pleasure doing business with you.” She pulls back, unwraps the lollipop and puts it in her mouth. She then throws the wrapper onto Lance and walks out of the room with a sway of her hips. Five stared at her in awe and Klaus winked at the guy.

Finally, Lance took them to where all of the files are. Five stood in front of the desk, Klaus sat on the other side, facing Lance and all the files, and (y/n) propped her elbows up on the end of the desk, her chin resting on one of her fists as she watched the man as he searched through the drawer.

“That’s strange.”

“What?” Five demands.

“Well, the eye hasn’t been purchased yet.”

“That is strange.” Klaus says standing up and circling Lance to make him nervous.

“This can't be right. It hasn’t even been manufactured yet. Where did you get that eye?” He asks looking up from his files and at Five.

He just shakes his head.

—————————————————————

“Well this is not good.” (y/n) says as the three of them walk back down the steps of the lab. “I was pretty good, though, right? ‘Oh ya? What about my consent bitch?’” Klaus laughed, trying to re-enact the scene from earlier.

“Klaus, it doesn’t matter.”

He just rolls his eyes and responds, “What’s the deal with this eye anyway? Why is it so important to you?”

“Someone out there is going to lose an eye in the next seven days.” (y/n) responds as Five finishes.

“Exactly. They’re gonna bring about the end of life on this earth as we know it.”

Klaus was listening, but didn't really understand what it meant. He didn’t try to understand because he doesn’t really care. He just wants his money.

“Yeah whatever. Hey, can I just get my 20 bucks, like, now?”

“Your 20 bucks?” (y/n) asked as Five rolls his eyes.

“Yeah my 20 bucks.”

“Unbelievable. I give up.” She throws up her arms and walks back to the steps and sits down. She rests her elbows on her knees and her chin rests on one hand while the other hand holds her unfinished lollipop.

“The apocalypse is coming, and all you can think about is getting high?” Five snaps. “Well I’m also quite hungry.” Klaus rubs his stomach then makes a growling noise. “You're useless.” Five shakes his head and walks over to (y/n), sitting next to her and stretching his legs out in front of him.

“Oh come on. You need to lighten up, old man.” Five signs and grabs (y/n)’s free hand, placing their intertwined hands in his lap and gently rubbing her hand with his other. “Hey you know, I’ve just realized why you're so uptight. You must be horny as hell!” Klaus laughs as if he’s just discovered a new scientific discovery.

(y/n) and Five just look at him and then continue on with what they’re doing. “All those years by yourself. It’s gotta screw with your head being alone.”

“I wasn’t alone. I had (y/n).” (y/n) smiles a little and stares down at their hands. “Perfect! Well why don’t y’all get together and... we’ll ya know!”

“You know what? Your right Klaus.”

“I-I am?”

“He is?” (y/n) asks, standing up with Klaus. “Of course he’s right. He’s always right. Well, we best be on our way then!” Five grabs (y/n)’s hand and pulls her towards the road, leaving Klaus there with a surprised look on his face. “Hope you don’t mind if we use your bed! Thanks!”

“Wait... what?!” But before Klaus could say anything else Five teleports himself and (y/n) into a taxi. “Wait no! Not my bed! Also I need my 20 bucks!” Klaus yells, running after the car. (y/n) just rolls up the window and waves as Five pulled her into his lap and kisses her jaw, then her neck, then her collar bone, and goes back up.

“Was it true what you said?” (y/n) asked, smirking. “Not entirely.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Well, for starters, I wouldn’t say that I’m not horny but....”

“Mhm. And...?”

“And that is NOT the reason why I’m ‘uptight’.” Five says pouting a little. (y/n) just laughed and they continued to kiss. When they were completely out of sight, Klaus ran his hands through his hair.

“Shit.”

#five #five hargreeves #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #five x reader #five x you #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you

[teacup-set]

Giants

Summary: 'Thank you for the recipe', her note says, but what she really means is 'thank you for raising me, thank you for making me who I am.' She knows mama will know what she means, she always does. [SSS family]

Read on: AO3, FFN

x

The sun is low on the horizon and the sky looks like it's on fire. The contrast of the world has shifted, and the aged rust-orange of the hokage tower looks burning red like its early days. The villagers often joke that the sun burns brighter these days because there is a flame-fanning uchiwa in the hokage office, that the will-of-fire that was once a flickering flame is now a ferocious katon. 

In her office chamber, Sarada feels much more muted, heaving under the weight of the faith people put in her. This had always been her dream and she harbored no disillusion about how difficult it is to be hokage. And yet, she is crumbling. The kage summit that she is organizing looms on the horizon, and every half hour there seems to be a new logistical difficulty without fail. Just the administrative nightmare that is hosting the world's most powerful dignitaries in an event that is without a doubt a beacon for those with ill-intent has eaten up all her time. She hasn't even gotten to thinking about the delicate issues and negotiations she has to raise at the summit. She is overwhelmed, but people depend on her so she can't let it show. Part of her wants to run to her parents home, because there she is still a child, free from the weight of the world on her shoulders. There is no time for that though. Her parents, along with the Uzumakis, moved out from Konoha some years ago, choosing to spend their retirement away from the shinobi world in a rural part of Fire country. It would take too long to make the trip, and there is still much to do for the summit. 

Sarada eyes the phone on her desk. 'I could call, I suppose.'

Without thinking about it too much, she dials the number. By the second ring, she remembers to cough and clear her throat lest her voice gives away her frustration. By the fourth, her mother picks up. 

"Hello?" 

"Hi, mama!" says Sarada, forcing cheer into her voice. 

"Sarada! How are you sweetie?" Sakura chimes. Already, Sarada feels lighter. 

"I am good, mama. How are you and papa?" asks Sarada, resting her chin on her palm. 

"We are both well sweetheart, though you and the others should drop by once in a while," her mother's voice becomes fainter as she speaks, like she is turning away from the mouthpiece, "Otherwise your father and uncle Naruto will keep trying to fill the void by acting like children themselves." and Sarada imagines her mother is eyeing some mess they have made in the background. She laughs. 

"Okay, okay, I will try to make a trip soon." she concedes. The line is silent for a second. 

"Sarada, is everything okay?" Sakura asks, and immediately Sarada wants to kick herself for thinking she could ever fool her mother. Both her and her papa agree, they could give the whole world the slip, but mama knows them by heart. 

"Yeah, of course." Sarada attempts, and from the silence from the other end she knows she has failed. "It's nothing, mama. Just stressed. The hokage summit is next week and Konoha is hosting." she admits in defeat. 

"Oh darling, that's a lot of work. Are you holding up okay?" 

Sarada wants to refrain from worrying her mother, but it is a chance to finally vent out all that she has been holding in and she is verging on desperate so she bites. 

"I...don't know mama. There is a lot to do." she starts, "I am still trying to take care of all the security measures. There is tension between Kumo and Hoshi, and they will not allow the Raikage delegation to cross into the land of fire." 

"Iwa and Oto have also been bickering. I really hope they will behave at the summit, otherwise I don't know how I'll handle them." she sighs and continues as Sakura patiently listens, "Even beyond the kage summit there is more to do. There have been a few bad harvests near the south east border, and sending provisions from the center's stock takes too long. Most of it rots by the time it gets there. The Fire Daimyo asked the Daimyo of Tea country to help since they are closer, but they refuse. Apparently we have 'a history of not interfering in each other's affairs' and that's how they want to keep it. Can you believe that?" she huffs angrily. 

"Sarada, is this line secure?" Sakura asks, her voice level. 

"Uh, yeah. I am calling from my office." Sarada replies, taken aback by her mother's sudden question. 

"Okay." Sakura begins, "The daimyo is wrong. Fire country and Tea country don't interact because of Tea country's reluctance to interact with nations that have shinobi villages. But during the time Lord Second was Hokage, Tea was experiencing tensions with Sea Country. Something to do with ships from Sea Country intercepting the cargo from Tea, I think? Anyway, they had requested help from Fire country then." 

Sarada sits up straighter, listening attentively. 

"They requested the Leaf to assassinate one of the people involved. They happened to be a higher-up in Sea country's government, and if the responsible party was discovered it would have caused a scandal." Sakura explained, "An ANBU unit was dispatched to take care of it, without any official mission report or paper transaction to make sure it would not be traced. But just in case they were discovered, to ensure that the Leaf would not be held responsible as the perpetrator, the Second kept a signed declaration from the Tea Daimyo sealed away. You should be able to find it in Lord Second's section of the records room. Not only is it proof that Fire and Tea have been involved in each other's affairs, this is information that Tea would very much like to avoid from entering the public domain. It might help you make your case, though I can't imagine how wicked someone would have to be to refuse to feed the hungry." Sakura finishes, sounding angered. 

Sarada is stunned. After quickly jotting down a note to check the records room, she pauses. Then slowly realization dawns. To her, mama is mama. Mama who braids her hair, always overcooks the fish, and doesn't believe in separating laundry by colours. But mama is also Uchiha Sakura. She was trained by two hokage, and was also on the same team as one (-and a half). For the longest time, she was also the director of the hospital and one of Konoha's most prestigious diplomats. There is perhaps no one in the village who has been in and out of the hokage building more than mama has. Of course she would know. Mama always has the answers, after all. 

"I...thank you, mama." Sarada stumbles, still basking in the awe of her belated realization. 

"Shh, sweetheart, don't thank me." from behind her, Sarada hears movement in the background, and then her papa's voice- 

"Who is it?" Sasuke inquires, asking Sakura. 

"It's Sarada, my love." Sarada blushes slightly, still embarrassed by her parents' affections towards each other, as she listens to her mother catch her father up on their conversation. In the next instant, her papa is on the phone. 

"Sarada. There is an alternate route from Kumo to Konoha through a set of islands near Whirlpool. I am sending you a map, await my hawk." her father's steady, reassuring voice carries through the phone. 

Once again, Sarada has to reckon with who her parents really are. Her memories of her father revolve around eating breakfast in the early mornings, packing lunches for mama, and throwing Kunai in the afternoons. But her father has traveled the whole world, and not just this one. He has inherited knowledge from the founder of the shinobi world itself. There is so much in this world that only he knows. 

"I will, papa, thank you." Sarada says, in a daze. 

"Hn." her father replies, satisfied, and then her parents have swapped the phone again. 

"Sweetie, is there anything else we can do?" worry rings in her mother's voice. 

The laundry list of tasks she has to complete is still infinite, but suddenly Sarada's heart is inflated again. She is ready. 

"No, mama, I can handle the rest." she says with confidence. 

She hears the smile in her mama's voice. "Of course you can, love." 

"You're doing a much better job than the idiot." Her father mutters in the background. 

Sarada gazes at her reflection in the window of her office. Staring back at her are her father's eyes, and the purple diamond on her forehead passed down from her mother. Her eyes trail to the hokage regalia hanging next to the door, but instead of feeling daunted, she is reminded of her earliest memory of them. The same cloak and hat, hanging on the back of a dining chair in her childhood home, first when Lord Sixth would come over for dinner, and then Lord Seventh. The same cloak that would hang between her father's dark one and her mother's lab coat, the same place it still belongs. It dawns on her simply. She was born to giants. She was raised by giants. And she is a giant too. 

Her reverie is broken by her mother's voice carrying through the phone. 

"Sarada, have you eaten dinner?" 

Suddenly Sarada wants to burst out laughing. Only her mother could go from delicate, high-risk politics to dinner without a pause. 

"No mama, not yet." she answers, smiling. 

"Sarada!" her mother exclaims, and her father clucks his tongue in disapproval. 

"You must eat, Sarada." her father's stern voice reminds her, and Sarada feels her heart soar. Some things are still simple, and for that she is grateful. 

"Oh, Sarada! Your father and I tried a new silken tofu recipe! You will like it, I am sure. I will send it with your father's hawk!" her mother gushes, then turns to her father, "Darling, do you think we could send some of the cucumbers we harvested, too? They will pair well." 

Her father grunts in approval and already Sarada can hear him walking away, no doubt to ready his bird. 

"We won't keep you anymore sweetie, you have work to do. Just make sure you eat!" her mother chides. 

Sarada wants to tell her, 'You aren't keeping me from anything. I will make time for you always. I love you with all my heart.' Instead she says- 

"Okay, mama. I will see you both soon." because she will, and then she will tell them. 

"Alright then. Bye sweetheart." Sarada savors the cadence of her mother's voice and then the phone disconnects, leaving her in the silence of her office. 

Outside the sun has set, but Sarada's heart is ablaze anew.

x

The hokage summit is completed, treaties are negotiated, the famine is tackled, and just as it always has been, new problems swiftly replace the old ones. Sarada is unflinching, she knows she will solve them, just as she always has. 

She finishes tying an envelope to the messenger hawk she is sending her parents’ way. Inside is a photograph of the silken tofu she made, and a note. 

'Thank you for the recipe', it says, but what she really means is 'thank you for raising me, thank you for making me who I am.' She knows mama will know what she means, she always does.

Fin.

AN: Inspired by the poem “My mother texts me instructions to cook silken tofu” by Sue Zhao, and my general dislike of being grown up. 

#sss family #naruto fanfiction